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LIBRARY 

OF   Till 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


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UNIVERSITY    )j 

OF 


SOUTHWARD    IK)! 


SPELL   nl-    SINS1IINE. 


BY  W.  GILMORE  SIMMS, 

AUTHOR     OF   "Til  K      YIM\  — II. Mil:      PA  '   M  l.l.l.l-    II   \  M,M 

\  '   I'C. 


"  Southward  1m? 

•  hr  \VII)«I<   lilOW, 

!  li. •••  the  sunny  sail.  ,  n-iuls,  go." 


c    M  u    A 

DONOHUE,  HENM:H1:RKY&  CO- 

407-435  DEARBORN  STREET 
i8go 


DONOHUE  &  HENNEBERRY. 
PRINTERS  AND  BINDERS, 
Ciii' 


SOUTH  WARD    HO! 


CHAPTER   I. 

M  When  the  wind  is  southerly."  etc.-  -HAMLET. 

I  \\  .  Y«>rk   in  tin-  opening  of  July.     My   trunk- 

packed,    ami     I     was    drawing    mi     my     boot-,    making    ready    foi 
departure.       Kverybody    was    having    town,     llyinir    i'r<'in    the    ap- 
liyi   in    the    city.      I     hail    8¥l  0     to  depart 

:  rlainly    no    motive    to    remain.      N«  w     York    \v:u* 

irrowii  -  ivalily  dull    with    all    her  follies.     Art    \\oivonly 

and  lacked  all  aitrartions   to  OIK-  who  had   survived 
hi-  own  verdancy.      Why  should  I  lin-,  : 

in    leaNin.ir   the   dtj  al»out    to   pursue    no   ordinary 

route  of  travt  1.      While   my  fr!<  all    living  to  the    interior, 

1    and    shady    -lades    almi.ir    the    Hudson,   d, 

U  of  the   Adirondack,  or  quiet 

haunts  in  r,erk-hire.  I  had  resolved  on  rdurninu  smith  —  iroinir 
l>ack  to  Carolina  in  midsummer.  A  friend  who  had  heard  of 
my  intention-  -uddcnly  luir-t  into  my  (  hamher  with  all  the  fervency 
of  a  in»rthe 

•\\iia'    dO6l     all    ihi-i    mean?"    was    hi-    question.      "Hack    to 
the    south  ?     In    the    nan  •  M     and    Cancer,    why    this 

most     perver-e  of    all   determinations  '.'     What     can    y    . 
It?      Is    it     sui'  purpose'?      I>    death    in    the    swamps,  of 

i.  inu-quito.  and  <-»'iji  <i,  .-o/,//.  [.referable  to  knife  or  pis- 
ted'.'  Can  \  oil  really  pred  r  Mack  vomit,  to  an  easy  and  agree* 
able  dentil  from  ChftlCO*! '  Pnj  :-  :•  id  will  be  nid 


UiM 


4  SOUTll\VAl:l»     ll<> 

more  grateful,  and  you  will  make  a  far  more  agreeable  • 
in  the-  eyes  of  the  spectator.  Yellow  fever  .spoils  the  complex 
ion  ;  and  the  very  delay  which  you  make  in  dying,  by  such  a 
process  —  though  suflicienlly  rapid  for  all  mortal  purposes  —  will 
yet  be  such  a  loss  of  tlcsh  as  i,,  lessen  \"ur  i>roportioiis 
ously  when  laid  out.  Choose  BOOM  other  form  of  exit.  I.-:  [1 
be  sh,,ri.  igieeable,  and  in  no  way  hurtful  to  your  physique  or 
complexion.  Next  to  the  loss  of  one's  friend,  is  the  pain  one 
feels  in  seeing  the  ugly  changes  which  a  vicious  di-ea-e,  acting 
through  the  liver,  makes  in  his  personal  appearance.  He  coun 
sel  k-d.  If  you  will  die,  go  with  me  to  the  chemist.  We  \\ill 
i  something  which  shall  serve  your  purpose,  without  pro 
ducing  tedious  discomfort  and  spoiling  your  visage." 

My  friend  was  a  genuine  Manhattan  —  a  lively  rattlepatc  of 
good  taste  and  good  manners,  who  had  the  most  unbounded 
faith  in  New  York  ;  who  venerated  the  ancient  Dutch  : 
of  Peter  Stuyvesant,  hated  the  Yankees  quite  as  much  as  the 
southrons  are  said  to  do;  but.  a*  usual  in  (Jotham.  believed 
the  south  to  be  a  realm  of  swam])  only,  miasma,  malaria,  mus- 
quito.  and  other  unmentionable  annoyances  —  totally  uninhabit 
able  in  midsummer—  from  which  all  penona  e<>mmonly  tied  as  from 
the  wrath  of  Heaven. 

"Nay.  nay."  wa<  my  an-wer.  '•  I  am  not  for  suicide.  I 
shan't  die  in  Carolina.  You  forget.  I  am  a  native.  Our  dis 
eases  of  the  south  are  so  many  defence-.  They  are  of  a  patri 
otic  inlluence  and  character.  They  never  afflict  the  natives. 
They  only  >,.{/,.  upon  the  spoiler  —  those  greedy  birds  of  pas- 
\\lio  came  like  wild  geese  and  wild  ducks,  to  feed  upon 
our  rice-tields.  and  carry  olf  our  possessions  jn  their  crops,  when 
the  harvest  i-  ready  for  the  gathering.  \Ve  are  as  healthy  in 
Carolina  in  midsummer,  nay  much  more  so,  than  you  are  in  New 
York.  Charleston,  for  example,  is  one  of  the  healthie-t  -capoiis 
in  the  I'nion  " 

"Ohl    gel     out.      Tell    that    to    the    marines.       Hut.     BUpp 
that     1    allow    all    that.     Supposing  you    don't     die  there,     or   even 
•_-»•»   youi   li'-r  out   of   order-    there  are   the  discomforts  — the   hot, 
furnace  like  atmosphere,  the  musqiiito, the       the 

"  You  multiply  our  miseries  in  vain.      I  grant  you  the  musrjuiti.es. 
but  only  alonir  the   BealXMird.      Twenty    mile,    from   the   COASt,    lean 


5 

•st  ilrlii  i"iis  pii'eland  >ettlei.ici:'s  and  climate. 
p  \\i\\\  a  blanket,  win- re  no  epidemic  pre 
vail  .  i  fact,  ami  where  a  mnstjuito  is  Mich 
that   ;  \y  liiin,  and  wonder   in  what    re-ion* 
he  ran  ha                           -unine  him  with  a  li  iriogltj,  whicli 
tliey  would    n.                   ihit,    it'  lie    could,  then    and    there,    ;nake 
tin-in  seusihlc  of  his  peculiar  powers.     When  one  happen*  tl 
driven  !•*.                   f  weather,  he  pines   away  in    a   settled  mclan- 
rh.ih  ,  ;r.,ni    ;!                           -"litude,  and    ln>es   his  vi.iei'   entirely 
PC    lu     .lies.      He    has    neither    the    heart    to    MII<T,    nor    the 
::i^,  and    finally  peri>hes   of  a   ln'oken  heart.      His 
of  >at'riv,  it  is  said,  is  only  found  in  his  heiii£  ahle  to  fasten 
a  I'.-iei^ncr,  when  he   is   reported   to   fatten  up   ".ina/mgly 
1        . ..'.-.'.     rather  difierent  in  Charle.-ton.     There   he 
home,  and  rears  a  numerous  family.      His  namr  is    Legion 
I  !<•  i-   a    «lra^on  in  little,  nnd    a    fierce    bloodsucker.      There    he 

:h    a  jierfect    exeellenee  of  attrihnte 
1    am  reminded   that    I   should  use  the   feminine   in 
, kin-  oft1:.      !  '-ijnito.      A  lady  naturalist  has  some 

where  written  that  it  \~  '•    nmsquito  which  does  the   xing- 

while  the  female  ah.n.  the  stin^in^  faculty.      ll..\v 

the  di-co\cry  w;js  madi-.  -!.•    b&B  m»t  told  us.      Hut  the  fact  : 
not   he   ijiiestioned.      \\'e    know   that,  aiming  hirds,   the   male   IP 
usuallv   the    BlDger,       Let    it    pa-- .      The    musijuitoes,    truly,    aro 
the  most  t'nrniidalile  of  all  the  annoyances  of  n  summer  residence 
in  ( 'haileM.'ii  ;    hut,  even  there,  they  are  confried  mostly  to  cer 
tain  precinct-.      In  a  !'•  ted,  airy  <l\vellin«r.  open  to  south 
and  west,  with  douldr  piaxzas  al'»:ip:  the  house  in  these  quar 
and  with  lei-nre  and  money  in  suilicient   quantity,  I  should  just 
on,  for  the  c-  :                  the  thinir.  take  up  my  ahode   for    the 
summer  in   t!                    Me   city  watered   hy  the  Ashley  and   the 

..ion  of  the  world." 
• 
i  Manhattan,  whose   domestic  geese 

rare  l.ird--.  \vrily  !" 
•    I1.  -.:  the  horrid  heat  of  (Miavle  -ton.'' 

"The   he.-^t  !      Whyr1  if   a  deal   cooler  than  eith>  * 

N.  w  Yi-rk,  IMiilailelphia,  or  Haltimore,  in  summer." 
"  Psha!      How  you  talk." 


C  SOUTH \VAKD    HO  ! 

"1  talk  truly.  I  have  tried  all  these  chics.  The  fact  is  as 
I  tell  you  ;  and  when  you  consider  all  things,  you  will  not  vcn- 
doubt.  Charleston  is  directly  on  the  Bea,  Her  doors  OJH-II 
at  once  upon  the  .irulf  and  the  Atlantic.  The  sea  rolls  its  uTrat  bil 
lows  up  to  IHT  portal-  twice  in  twenty-four  hours,  and  brings  with 
them  the  pleaaanteet  play  Of  bree/.es  that  ever  fanned  the  courts  of 
Neptune,  or  made  music  for  the  shells  of  Triton.  There  are  no 
rocky  height-  on  any  -ide  to  intercept  the  winds.  All  is  plain  sailing 
to  and  from  the  SCE.  IJe-ides.  we  build  our  houses  for  tlie  summer 
climate.  While  you.  shuddcrim:  always -with  the  dread  of  ice  and 
winter,  wall  your-df  in  on  every  hand,  scarcely  sulYering  the  sun  to 
look  into  your  chamlH-r-.  and  -hutting  out  the  very  xephyr,  we  throw 
our  doors  wide  to  the  entrance  of  the  winds,  and  multiply  all  the 
physical  adjuncts  which  can  give  us  shade  and  coolnc— .  A  cliamber 
in  a  large  dwelling  will  have  its  half  do/en  windows  —  these  will  be 
surrounded  with  verandahs — great  tree-  will  wave  their  green 
umbrella- over  these  in  turn;  and.  with  a  shrewd  whistle  —  a  magic 
peculiarly  our  own  —  we  persuade  the  brec/e  to  take  up  it.s  per 
petual  lodgings  in  our  branches.  Kemcmber.  I  speak  for  our 
dwelling  houses  —  these  chielly  which  stand  in  the  southern  and 
wt-lcrn  portions  of  the  city.  In  the  bu-iness  parts,  where  trade 
cconomi/.ev  space  at  the  expense  of  health  and  comfort,  we  follow 
your  Yankee  notions  —  we  jam  the  houses  one  ai:ain-t  the  other  in 
a  sort  of  solid  fortress,  shuttinir  our  faces  airainst  the  bree/.es  and 
the  lLrht,  the  only  true  resources  airainst  lassitude,  dy-pep-ia.  and  a 
counties^  l,o>t  of  other  disorders." 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it." 

yen  please,  but  the  rase  is  as  I  tell  you." 
And  you   p«-r>i-t    in  going  south?" 

•  I  do;  but  my  purpose  is  only  to  pass  through  Charleston,  after 
a  brief  delay.  I  am  iroinu;  to  spend  the  summer  anumi:  our 
mountain--." 

untain-'  Why,  what  sort  of  mountains  have  you  in  ( -ar- 
olina?  " 

t  many.  I  irr.-mt  you.  but  >oine  very  noble,  very  lofty, 
very  pictuiv>«|u»- :  -ome.  to  which  your  famous  Cat^kill  is  only 
a  wart  of  respectable  dimensions'  Our  Table  Hock,  for  exam- 


MAINS.  7 

pic,  is   a  giant  who  could    take  his   breakfast,  with    tlio   p  t.atest 

:i  your  most  indolent  ami  conceited  sunnir' 
••  Why  have  we  never  heard  of  them  hefore  t" 
••  i  '>u  are  talking  all   the  while  of  ymir  ov  n.     Tot 

hear  nothing-      ft'  -re  you  to  stop  ymir  own  hoa-ting  foi  a  season, 
to  your  neighbors,  you  would  scarcely  continue  to  as- 
-ume,  :i<  you  do.  that  the  world's  oyster,  everywhere,  was  t 
opened  only  by  the  New  York  knife.      In  the  matter  of  moun 
tains,  North  Carolina,  where  she  borders   mi  South,  is  in  po- 
-ion  of  the   mo-t  noble  elevations  in   the  United    States   proper. 

k  Mountain  is  understood  to  he  the  loftiest  of  ,,m-  summits 

many  that  stretch  the:  ;p.  in  the  same  re 

gion,  as   if   eager    for   it-   great    distinctions.      Here   you   find   a 
•a  of  mountains;   hillow   upon    billow,    stretching    away 
into  rem  .  .>n  all  hands,  till  the  ranging  e; 

with   their  hlue  peaks,  aimmg  the  down-temli: 
en.      It  is  here  that  I  propose  to  refresh  myself  this  .Dimmer.      I 
shall  cud    its   heights,  join  the  chase  with 

Mountain  hunters,  and  forget  all  your  city  conventional'- 
in  a  free  intercourse  with   a  wild   and   nohle   nature.      Take   my 
couns-d  and  do  the  same.      Go  with  me.      Give  up  your  Newport 
and   -  tendencies,  and  wend   south  with  me  in  search   of 

Bfl  and  a  hnlmy  atmosphere." 

"Could    I    heliove  you,  I    should!      1    am   sick   of  the  ancient 

routes.      Hut  I  have  no  faith  in  your  report.      You  think  it  pntii- 

i  to  paint  vour  .-epulchres.      Their  handsome  outsides,  under 

vour    limning,  shall    not  tempt    me  to  approach    them,  l,->t    they 

:i    upnu    me.      Hut,    write    T  i    go.     'Description   is 

your    forte.'      1   -hall    find  your   pictures  plea-ant    enough,  \\hen 

not    required    t«>    believe    them    truthful.      Refresh    me  with   your 

licti'"  •       !'     \«-u  really  helieve  you  shall  see  a  mountain  u' 

anvthii  .  than    a  hill  —  anything   approaching 

-?" 

with  m-       B€«  for  your-elf.'\ 

Id    I  jier-ua-'i    xnxndf  that    I  .should  not  be  drowned   in 
a  ":<  ten    up   hy  i.iii  •  '  1    hy 

^r!'  and  my  skin  uttei'  tor  drumheads  hy  you' 

hoi-rid  sun — I  might  1  i.      You  would  hetray  me  to  n>- 

fate.      I  can't  trust  y  -i." 


SOUTHWARD    no! 

"Hear  me  prophesy!    Fifteen   yean  will  not    pass    before   the 

mountain  range-  of  the  Carolinas  and  (Jeorgia  will  be  the  fashion 
able  midsummer  resort  of  all  people  of  ta-te  north  of  the  Hudson. 
They  will  no  thither  in  search  of  health,  COOlneSS,  pure  air,  and 
the  picturesque. " 

••You  say  it  very  solemnly,  yet  I  should  more  readily  believe 
in  a  thousand  other  revolutions.  At  all  events,  if  y«,u  will  -:<» 
south  in  July,  see  that  the  captain  of  your  steamer  takes  an  ice 
her-  in  tow  as  soon  as  she  getl  cut  to  sea.  There  are 
said  to  be  rolling  la/My  about  oil  Sandy  Hook.  Write  me  if  vou 
survive;  and  deal  in  as  much  pleasant  fiction  as  you  can.  I 
shall  look  for  nothing  due.  Now  that  postage  is  nothini:.  I  am 
ambitious  of  a  large  correspondence." 

"  You  shall  hear  from  me." 

"And,  by  the  way,  you  may  do  some  go,,d  in  vmir  scrib- 
blings,  by  enlightening  others.  In  truth,  your  countrv  i-  \.r\ 
much  a  ti  rni  ini-»unitii.  Let  us  liave  a  description  of  manners 
and  customs,  scenery  and  people.  A  touch  of  statistics,  here  and 
there,  will  p..-ibly  open  the  way  to  our  capital  and  enterprise; 
and.  to  one  so  fond  of  such  things  as  myself,  an  occasional 
legend  or  tradition  —  the  glimpse  of  an  obscure  history  of  the 
Revolution  — or  of  the  time  beyond  it  — will  greatly  increase  the 
value  of  your  correspondence." 

"  A  good  hint  !  I  may  inspire  that  faith  in  others  which  you 
withhold  — very  unwisely.  I  must  say.  Your  world  do,-,  in 
truth,  need  some  honest  information  touching  ours,  by  which  to 
keep  it  from  such  sad  mistakes  as  augur  much  mischief  for  tin- 
future." 

"()h!  no  politics  now,  I  beg!  Leave  them  to  the  cats  and 
monkeys  the  dogs  and  demagogue-." 

"Don't   fear!     My  epistles  shall   be  penned   in  accordance  with 
my   moods  and   humors  —  according   to  pas-ing    facts   and   fancies 
—  and   I    shall    only    occasionally    take   you  —  over   the   ditch    and 
gutter:     This    a-Hirance    should    keep   you   in   good   humor." 
"Write  of  what  you  see,  of  course." 

"  And   of  what    I    feel." 

"And  of  what  you   think." 

11  And  of  what   I  hear." 

"  And   of   what   y.ni   know." 


•  I  of  \\hat  I  IM •!' 
"  And— " 

••What    moral     one  would    think    the-e    reMui-ition-  ,,uite    -ufli 
cietit.      I  -hall  tr\   I..  •  ••  .mply  with  tin-in       at  my  lei 

••I>t.n'i  I' or- 1  i  1"  give  ii-  a  -lory  n<>\v  and  then  -  a  legend  — 
fad  Of  fabrication  -I  d-'iM  can-  which.  YOU  may  wind  up  a 
chapter  with  a  -oiii.r.  and  a  de-cription  with  a  Mi«ry." 

i  arc  ind'ili:<'nt  '  W»-H.  I  will  do  what  I  can  for  \ou.  I 
shall  report  my  daily  experience-,  and  -omethin-  more.  M. 
memory  -hall  have  full  play,  and  tin-  event-  of  former  | 
shall  IM-  made  to  illu-tralt-  tin-  pre-ent.  1  -hall  e\erci-e  perfect 
;..m  in  what  I  write  a  liberty  I  hope  alway-  to  enjoy  and 
..hall  so,,the  the  idle  vein.  1,y  alTonlin-  evivprivi!  M<-y. 

Without    some    Mirh   privilege,    your    traveller'^    narrative    i»  apt    to 
DM  a  \ery  monotonous  one  :    and  he  who  drily  rrporN  only  what 
lie  wet,  \\ithout   enlivening:  hi- details   by  what    he    fed-,  or  fan. 

will  be  very  apt.  however  much   he  may  de-ire  to  CO! 
re-pond,  to    find    few  friend- willing    to    p:i\  OB    hi-    let1 

• 

,1  '     You   have  the  ri.-rlit  notimi  of  the   tiling      W«-ll  '     You 
reel      1  -hall  see  you  (.IT.      At 

Sun-  enough,  at  the  de<iirnated  hour,  my  friend  waited  my  arrival 
on  the  i|uarter deck  of  the  p'od  -teamt  r  Marion.  Merry  ma-ter.  Our 
hand  Lrra-|>ed. 

•'  1   ;ili!  In  r<  .'     -aid  he. 
••  1  am  ijrateful  '  " 

,•'      Hear    me    out'      Your    word-    have    prevailed.       I    am 
anxio u-  to  believe  your  fiction.      1  am  tired  of    Newport  an< : 
—  lonir  f'T  novelty  — have  in-ured   my  life    forjen    thou-and  —  ami 

now,  hoi  p  with  you  M  I  am  a  living  man  I " 

And  we  sang  together  the  old  chant  of  the  Venetian,  done  into 
English  - 

M  At  the  waves  flow*  M  the  windi  i-i^w. 

the  ^iiiiny  xiil.  I. -I  m  |O,  I. rot  hers,  go  I 
Southwunl  h..:    s.utliw:ii-.|  h. 
1* 


CHAPTEE    II. 

Our  separation  so  abides,  ami  Hies, 

That  thmi,  residing  li<  t  with  me, 

And  I  hence  Heeling,  here  remain  witli  th- 


idden  had  been  the  determination  <>f  my  friend  to  accom 
pany  me  south,  that  there  was  but  a  Miiirle  acquaintance  to  see 
him  oil',  and  he  came  late,  with  a  quarter  box  of  cigars  under  his 
arm,  and  a  bottle  of  London-Dock  black  brandy,  rolled  up  in  a 
blue  silk  pocket-handkerchief  ,  carried  in  his  hands  as  ^innyrly  as  if 

a  new-born  baby.  These  were  to  all'ord  the  necessary  consolations 
against  salt-water.  My  friend  and  myself,  meanwhile,  mounted  to 
the  quarter-deck,  leavin.-r  the  -an^-way  free  to  the  bustling  crowds 

that  come  and  <i">,  like  so  many  striving,  crossing,  and  p^n 

billows,  on  all  such  occasions.  We  had  not  many  passengers,  at  this 
season  of  the  yeai\  but  they  had  numerous  acquaintances  to  see  them 
oil'.  We  watched  sundry  irroups.  in  which  we  could  detect  symp 
toms  of  Mippn-sM-d  emotion,  not  less  intelligent  and  touching  because, 
evidently,  kept  down  with  elTort. 

.  when  \ve  know  our  own  restless  nature,  eairer  ahva\>  l"r 
change.  it  is  yet  wonderful  that  we  should  leave  home  —  should 
tear  ourselves  a  way*  from  the  livinj:  fibres  of  love  which  we  leave 
behind  us,  and  but  .slowly  to  close  the  wounds  in  our  own 

Ills. 

The    Strongest    near!    goes    \\itli    sonic    reluctance,    even    \\lien    it 
hurries    nn->t.      The    soul  linirers    fondly,    though    the    i. 
re-tifl'    in   the    carriage    at    the   door.       We    l«-».k   back    with   lon.irini; 
•  hile  the  \e—(l  droi-s  down    the   stream.      If   we   could  endure 
mil    and   self  reproach   of  manhood,  in   such  a  proceeding,  we 
should,  half  the  time,  return  if  we  could. 

Trulv,    this    partii;  erioiUB     I'1:  *'n     where     the 

like    myself,    an    old    OD6,       To    the   \  ;mer    it 

10 


r\iM  !\<-   01    n:n  1  1 

is  a  irrcat    trial    of    the 

youthful     home-     tin-     old     familiar     facet       tin-     well  reiiiem; 

haunts   ami   pathu.; 

,bout    In    leave     llu-iii.    pei-hap-      forever       El  that 

comi*  1-   main  in   which   tin-  hefUl  apt    to   falter. 

Of   tin-  affections  I'd  ray-    it-  i:n  at    def 
th. 

:     crowd     upon     the     quay  — tin-  .      the 

anxictv,    and    earne-t      words    and     look-    of   all  —  the    un 

many  — the    la-t    broken,    tender    words    (if    intere-t -- the 
subdued    <pe<-ch       •  which     bur-t    from    the  bosom   in 

-what     association-,     and     paiii_r<.     and     fear-,     and 

do   the-e   declare!    what    mi-L'iviiiir^  and    term:  the 

liarl>or   -inilo    in    I?  tin-    skies    look    down    in   beauty;    the 

wave-    roll   alonir.    s«ift.    sulxlued.    with   a    j»lea.sant    munnur  ;    there 

.-loud    c.ver    lli 

in    the    liquid    x.ephyr   that     stirs    the     hair    upon    your     • 
but     the    jtrescinet     soul     know  s    the    capiice    of     wind,     and 
and  >ky  ;  and   the   loving   heart    is  alw  >4ure  full  of  tender 

a|)prchcii-ioiis    for   the    tiling    it    tow,      LOJ  delicious 

intercour-e     are     about     to     teruiii.ate  :      stron.Lr     aHinitie.-.      whicb 
!K.t  be  broken,  are  altout    to    be    burden- d    with    cruel     apprehell- 
•id      doubts      which      call      Hot      be      decided     till     after     loin; 
dela\   :   and    the    mutual    inter'  iiich    ha-    become   the  absolute 

,.f     the     heart,     i-    to    be    interrupted    by  /ion 

which    may    be    final.      The  deep   water-    may    roll    eternal    harrier* 
brtv  'y  linked    and    bonded     live-,    and    neither    shall 

hear    the    ery    of    ilie    other's     -utTcrm-  -  neiiher     be     pennittcil    to 
,d    tin-  hand    of   help,   or  brini:  to    the   ilyin.ir    lips    the  cup   oj 
itlon. 

the   thoughts  ami    f«-ars    of   I!IOM-    \vh.-  daily. 

iration  ;   but  how  i.-  it  witli  tho.<e  w  : 
:    motive  for   \\anderiiii:   i-   j.l.  : 

eh:i!  'hey    woi;!  that 

•  n  into  th. 

lo\i  .      T:  in   this    -,  (  in::  ind.  duly 

;,ined.  it   IN  not   without   its   jiMiiirati«>!  hieh 

prompt-  the  d(  B   in  the 

i 


12  :n\v.\Ki>    n<»! 

ihU  secret  prompter  some  of  thrift  bendits  which  the  world  enjoys; 
and  the  temporary  sufferings  of  tin-  affections  —  the  wounds  , 
ration  — arc  not  wholly  without    their  compensation,  even   while  the 
wounds  an-  green. 

A  similitude  has  somewhere  been  traced  between  tin-  effects  of 
parting  and  of  death.  The  former  has  lieen  called  a  death  in 
miniature.  It  certainly  very  often  provokes  a-  fond  an  exhibition 
of  grief  and  privation.  But  these  declare  a-  much  for  life  as 
for  mortality.  There  is  another  side  to  the  picture.  Tin-  parting  of 
friends  is  so  far  grateful,  as  it  -rives  us  the  renewed  evidences 
of  a  warm,  outgushing,  and  acutely-sensitive  humanity.  We  are 
consoVd,  through  tlie  sorrow,  by  the  love,  \\V  B6Q  lln-  grief. 
but  it  does  not  give  us  pain,  as  we  find  its  origin  in  the  most 
precious  development-  i.f  ihe  human  nature.  \\Y  weep,  hut  we 
feel  ;  and  there  is  hope  for  the  heart  so  ]<mg  as  it  can  led.  There 
are  regretfl  -but  O!  how  .sweet  are  the  sympathies  which  harbor 
in  those  regrets!  The  emotions,  the  passions,  the  more  precious 
interior  sentiments,  need  occasionally  sonic  pressure.  BOTOC 
privation,  some  pang,  in  order  that  they  may  be  made  to 
show  themselves-  in  order  that  we  may  be  a-*ured  of  our 
possessions  still  ;— and  how  warmly  do  they  crowd  and  gather  above 
us  in  the  moment  when  we  separate  from  our  associates!  Into 
what  unexpected  activity  and  utterance  do  they  start  and  sprint:, 
even  in  the  case  of  tho-e  whose  ordinary  looks  are  cold,  who, 
-•rtain  herbs  of  the  forest,  need  to  be  bruised  heavily  be 
fore  they  will  give  out  the  aromatic  sweetness  which  harbors  in  their 

bosonis  ' 

And  ilie-e  are  the  IM-I  proofs  of  life  —  not  death.  Humanity 
never  pOtteaMf  more  keen  and  precious  vitality  than  while  it 
suffer-.  It  is  not,  as  in  the  hour  of  decay  and  decline— \\  In-n 
the  blood  is  chilled  by  apathy  — when  the  tongue  is  stilled  by 
palsy  — when  Ihe  exhausted  nature  gladly  foregoes  the  Mi-ungle. 
and  craves  escape  from  the  w<  aryini:  contlid  for  existence- 
anxious  now  for  the  quiet  waters  only-  imploring  peace,  and 
dulled  and  indifferent  in  respect  to  all  moral  associations.  The 
thought*  of  the  mind,  the  yearnings  of  the  hear!,  are  all  of  a 
different  nature,  at  the  separation  of  friends  and  kindred.  They 
do  not  part  without  a  hope.  The  pain  of  partin-  i-  not  \\ithout 
ure.  Th«-re  ftTC  9WCCt  •<  n<  !.  and  this 


is  one  of  thai    order.     Then-    are   n.  ii    i-    tnif;  but    ili<  -e 

:or  life,   ii.-iy    hope,   rather    than    fur   death.      Kvery    impul-e. 
in    the     hour    which  tin-    ?OJ  llfl    «»f     !!!• 

vairue    ami    grateful  anticipate .;.  ••  novatini:    c\perien< 

predicted  and    promised    enjoyments,  which   ncutrali/e    the    ] 
partin.i:.  <-\en    in    the    luva-t-    that   iin-t    warmly    lo\v.     Tln-e  who 
remain   \\eep.  p- rhap-.  mo;  itely   than    tho-e   who  go,      Y<  t 

tfl  that  silrnt  Irar  in  the  solitude  —  liaunte<l  by  happy 
memorial  in  tin-  little  dm  <»f  home!  The  \ 

lOBCi   t:  iation-    of    home  :     lint,  in    place  of 

he    dream-    of    di-c<.\eries    to    tie    made    which  he  -hall    yet 
brin:r    home  and  -hare   with    tl'  He    will   ^ath-  • 

'ion-    to   add    to    the    deli:,rhN    of  home;   n,-\v    ;^p(  (-t-  ;   trea- 
c     and     mind,     which     shall     make     the     Military 

wholly    the    lonely   li-nirlh    of    his    al)-ence.      Nature   htis   IHJ- 

neM.lently    posse— e.l    u-    with    promiitim:-.     such    a<    lhi>«-.    which 

di--irm    ivmnr-e  :md    appreheii-inn  :    else  how  shall  entcrpn-e  brave 

•lde-<    water-,  or   hope    retread    the    wilderness?     Where 

should     Lrenius    look    for    the  accompanying  aid    of     j"  : 

would     ambition     «cck     for     ciicourairement  ?     where    would 
merit   tind   it-  reward? 

well    to    leave    our  home-    for   a    -easoii.      It    i<  wi-e 
al>ro;id    amoiiir     straiej-i-r-.       The     mind     and     body,   alike.    1 
debilitated,    and    lose    their   common    eneri^ie-    M    freijiu-ntly     from 
the    lack    of    change   and     ne\\  .-     from    any    other    caii-e. 

;ion.   in    tlii>    way,    from    ih«-    toil-    ,,{   .,iie    -tati..n.  -•  r\i •-  to 
the    capacities,  to    make    room    for    thouirht.  to    atTord   time 
for    the    iratherini:   of    new    material-,    and    for    tin 

ullies    of   scn-e   and   sentiment.       As    the    farther    we   go    in 
the    natural.  «>    in    the    moral    world,   a    like    journey    in    tin 

M-  u-  a  wider  hori/on.  \Ve  add  to  our  stock  by 
attrition  with  -tran-<  •  A  I  bCti  trade  i-  carried  on  betu.cn  u-. 
Our  mode-  of  thinkin.ir.  our  tlmuirhts  them-,  he-,  our  manner-, 

aim-,   and    de-ire-       if    not    exchanged    for    othe: 
intermixc.l    uith.    «.r    modified    by   them.     They   pither  fron. 
much,    in    Ihe-e    (omrrn-.    and    in    this    .<  : 

from    them;    and   thus    by    mutual    acquaintance  with  each 
other,    we  -h     prcjmlicc-.    >ul'  •  •!•  lit    eiuni 

ties,   make    ne\\     friend-   and    associations,    and   all   thi-    -imjily   by 


14  SOUTHWARD    110  ! 

enlarging  the  sphere  of  our  observation  —  by  overleaping  the 
boundaries  of  a  narrow  education— leaving  the  ten-mile  hori/on 
in  which  we  wen-  born,  and  in  which  our  peculiar, 

and  opening  our  eyes  upon  a  true  picture  of  the  character  of 
the  various  man. 

Of  all  tyrant-,  home  ignorance  i-  the  VTOfBt, 

me-keepinjr  youth  have  ever  homely  wits," 

which    subjugate    the   understanding,    enthral     the     heart,    minister 
to   a    miserable   sectarianism,  as    well     in    society   a>    in    politic  ami 
religion,   and    which,   in    the    denial    to    the  individual    of   any    just 
knowledge   of   his   fellow-,     leaves   him   iii  most  lamentable   igno 
rance  of   the   proper  resources  in   himself.     We  should    know  our 
neighbor  if  only  in  order    to  know  ourselves,    and    home    is    never 
happily    illustrated    than    when  wv    compare  and    contract    it 
•with  what   we  Bee  abroad.      It    is  surprising  how  soon   we  lo<e    the 
faculty  of  reasoning  when    the    pro\inee  which  we    survey  is  con 
tracted  to  the  single  spot  in  which  we  sleep  and  eat.     We  cease  to 
use  our  eyes  when  the  sphere  is  thus  limited.     The  disease  of  moral 
htedness    supervenes,  and  the  mind  which,  hi  a  larger  field  of 
action    and  survey,    might    have    grasped    all    humanity    within    its 
MI  of  this  one  mishap,  into  the  wretched  bigot, 

with  ;t  disposition  to  be  af  de-poiic,  in  degree  with  the  extreme  bar- 
rcnno-.  of  his  mental  condition. 

"Ah!  dearly,"  concluded  my  companion,  after  we  had  worked 
out  the  meditations  together  which  1  have  thrown  together  above  as 
-say — "clearly,  there  is  no  more  moral  practice  in  the 
world  than  is  found  in  vagabondage;  yet  if  you  try  to  prove  ii-  mor- 
ality,  you  take  from  it  all  its  charm.  I  am  for  enjoying  the  vice  as 
such,  without  arguing  for  the  necessity  of  evil  —  which  I  yet  admit. 
—  I>ut.  look  yon.  we  are  to  have  some  lady  ]•  ,  That's  a 

ire!" 

red   in  the  group  to  which  my  companion  called   my 
attention,  some  old  aequaintan 

"Ay.    indeed;    and    when    you    have  seen   her    face,  and    chatted 

with    her,    you    will    account    her    beautiful    as  graceful.      She    is  a 

creature   to    whom    I    will    introduce     you.       The     family    is 

i    our   oldest,    highly-esteemed     and   wealthy.       You    want     a 

wife  —  she    is  the  \\oman   for  you.      Win  her,  and  \  .    favor- 


10 

I 

i  'Me  -lie  i- 

on  1.  •Mountain  :  '.  hidi  w< 

-I  shall   In-  dad   t..  kn-  I    that    I  want  a  wife 

ii.rh.  IKI-II  . 

irnmp    disappeared     in    the    caliin.       Our     hour    was    ap- 
':.'•  1  •     bell    would    soon    rini;  —  our    fellow  p.; 

gers — fortunately    few    in    number  —  some    forty    only  —  were    all 
on    board.       Several    of    them    were   known    to  me,  and    I   pron 

If     and     my     oompani>  fellowship.        Meanwhile,     we 

taking    our    la-t     look    at     the    iiei^borh, ••.,!.     Tin-    bay    and 
York     niak  ful    picture.     Tin-    am 

phiiheatre   is    a    line    and    noble   one.  but    it    is    a    mi-take    to    i 
upon   thr 

itinn  with  me.  even  denied  that  it  could  be  called  a  beauti 
ful  one.  Hut  he  w:is  clearly  in  error.  lie  had  mea-un  d  it- 
claim-  by  foreign  -tandard^  thr  bay  of  Naplt  - 

juncts    of    which    it     lackid.       Hut     its    braunY<    are    nevertheless 
und.  Itfl    admirer-    i-    in    talki: 

-'ib.imity.     (Jrainli-ur    i-    not     th<-    word    to  apply    to   any 

of    the    Hudson.      It     i>    a    bold    and    -laiely    <tream.    ample, 

noble,   rich,   but    with   few  of  the   ingredient-  of  -ublimity.      It    im- 

«s   you— is    impo-in-;- -your    mind    i-    rai>rd     in     it-   contem- 

pla:i"ii.  your    t.c.cy    enlivened    with    its    pictui  -but    it 

-ses    few  <.r    none   of   the    (pialities    which  ,r;!.-.      h 

has    boldness    rather    than    vastness.    is    commandini:    rather    than 

striking,  and,  if    imprr— ive.  i-    ijuitr   a-    frrijurnily    cold    and    unat- 

•'          T"     I     ft     :'!,.  •  ••ll-to||H-il     to     thr    dell-r    Ullll'! 

tin-    •  ppfce,    the    .iriirantic    forest,    the    interminable     -i: 

the    wilderne-s    of    undcrirrowth,    and    thr   various    tints   and    1 
of    Iraf   and    blossom,    which    (Town    our    woods    with    variety    and 
sweetness,    the    sptl  -.rthern    f  zests  a    g] 

Icncy,    which     the  .„.,,•    the 

ir.    only     i  mtain    scenery,    unlr-s    wild 

ami    irreatly    irreirular.  repd-    and    chills  as  commonly  as    it    iir 
and     bciruiles.     There    mu«t  lint 

and    shelter,  under  a   dear    1  i^fy   the  fancy   and    tin- 

That     llotlg      l: 
tran-ilioii     fr,.in     the    s<-a.   IM-  -..e\\Iiat    i;. 

'•ably  as 


1C  i  ii WAI; i >   in i  ! 

agreeable  and  attractive  as  any  in  the  country,  unless,  perhaps, 
the  St.  John's,  which  i-  quite  a  wonderful  stream  —  imposing  in 
spiti-  of  the  absence  of  all  elevations  —  and  I  may  add.  in  certain 
respect*.  th<-  'IVlicu.  or  French  Hroad,  in  North  Carolina.  The 
fnM  of  the>e  river-  i*  remarkable  for  its  great  openings  into  noble 
ami  its  noble  colonnade*  of  trees;  — the  la-t  for  its  furious 
rapid*,  it*  precipitous  and  broken  heights,  that  l>ear  upon  their 
bla-ted  fronts  the  proofs  of  the  terrible  convulsion  of  storm  and 
fire,  that  rent  their  walls  apart  and  'gave  pas-age  for  the  swollen 
torrent.  The-e  you  may  study  and  pursue,  mile  after  mile, 
with  constant  increase  of  interc-t.  Hut.  along  the  Hudson,  I  do 
B  that  the  spectator  lingers  over  it  with  any  profound  ad 
miration,  or  expectation,  the  first  hour  or  two  of  progress  being 
Hi<  curiosity  seldom  lasts  beyond  \Ve-t  Point.  Observe 
the  crowds  wayfaring  daily  in  the  steamboa!-.  between  New 
York  and  Albany  — as  they  glide  below  the  1'ali-ade.  that  ex 
cellent  wall  of  h'iij>.  almost  as  regularly  built,  as  if  by  the  hand 
of  mortal  artificer  — as  they  penetrate  the  Highlands  and  dart 
beneath  the  frowning  ina^e*  of  Crow  Nest,  and  Anthony's 
-watch  them  as  they  approach  all  these  point*  and  places 
—  all  of  them  distinguished  in  song  and  story,  in  chronicle  and 
guide-l)0ok —  and  you  will  perceive  but  little  raised  attention  — 
little  of  that  eager  enthusiastic  forget  fulness  of  self,  which 
speaks  the  excited  fancy,  and  the  struggling  imagination.  They 
will  talk  to  you  of  beautie*.  but  these  do  not  intlame  them;  of 
sublimities,  which  never  inspire  awe;  and  pro*pect*.  ovr  \\liich 
they  yawn  rather  than  wonder. 

In  fact,  the  exaggeration*  in  regard  to  this  river  have  done 
some  wrong  to  its  real  claims  to  respect  and  admiration.  The 
traveller  is  taught  to  expect  too  much.  The  scenery  does  not 
grow  upon  him.  The  objects  change  in  their  position*,  from 
ihi*  hand  to  that,  in  height  and  bulk,  but  seldom  in  form,  and 
as  infrequently  in  relation  to  one  another.  The  groups  bear 
still  the  same  family  likenesses.  The  narrow  gorge  through 
which  you  are  pa-sing  at  one  moment,  presented  you  with  its 
twin  likeness  but  a  few  minutes  before;  and  the  ^real  rock 
which  towers,  -doping  -raduallv  up  from  the  river  in  which  it  is 
moored  with  Meadfast  anchorage,  is  only  one  of  a  hundred  such, 
which  lack  an  individual  character.  The  time  has  not  yet  ar- 


1  li  i:    i:  \  1  A     FORK.  1  1 

1  when  the  commanding  phy-i-  <>f  tin-  -c« -n«-  -hall  pos- 

86881111  appropriate  moral  attraction  ;   when  tin-  temple  shall   swell  up 

with  it-  wt    raiiLTf  "f  marble  pillars,  crowning  the  eminence  v,ith  a 

attraction,  ami  addre— iiiLr  equally  the  ta<te  and    patriotism  {— 

win:  .mil   irardens   and   palace-,  likr  tho-e  of   I'.airdad.   shall 

•  al   to  that  oriental   fancy   in   the   Spectator   uhich    i-  dearly   the 
province  of  our  .-ky  and  climate. 

At  pnKDt,  lln  M  arc  >..me\vli:it  repelled  liy  the  frequent  and  inani 

mini-ter  1«.  pn-t.-nsion.  al  the 

expense  of  tine  and  impo-im:  situation-.  The  la\vn  which  -pn-ad- 
away  up.. n  tlie  Bhoro,  terminatini:  at  «mr«-  with  a  West  Indian  veran 
dah.  a  Dutch  farmhou-e.  and  j.rolialy  a  (iothic  OOttagC,  -<-arcely  per 
suades  you  in  a  -.  cond  irlanee  ;  or.  if  it  doe-,  only  to  prompt  you  to 
quarrel  with  the  painful  ami  unfruitful  lalmrs  «.f  the  architect  in  -<-ar.  h 
of  the  pictun  Mi\ie.  In  what  is  natural,  it  may  l>e  admitted  that  \  oil 
find  irraee  and  beauty,  but  somewhat  injured  by  monotony  :  in  what 
is  done  by  art  you  are  annoyed  by  newne--.  and  a  ta-te  -till  crude  and 

imperfectly  developed. 

The  bav  of  New  York  i<  much  more  noble.  1  am  in<  lined  to  think, 
than  the   Hud-oii  ;  but  the  characteri-lic-  of  the  two  an-  not  unlike. 
!i.   fullne--.  eleann-  iiidi   -alistir-  the  irlance. 

and  a  sutlicieiit  variety  in  the  irrou])-  and  objects  to  persuade  th- 
t<>  wander-  the-e  are  the  constit  uent<  of  botli  ;  and.  in  their  combi 
nation,  we  find  IWWtnaB,  irraci-  and  nobleiie-.  but  imwhere  grand 
eur  or  -ublimilv.  (treen  i-let-  ri-e  on  either  hand,  the  -hore  !{«•- 
j)rettily  in  -iirht.  fre-h-ned  with  verdure,  and  -prinkled  by  white  cot- 
\\hich  you  mii-t  not  examine  in  detail,  le-t  you  -u-pect  that 
they  may  be  temple-  in  di-iru;  I  '  ire  fort-  and  batterie-.  which 

.-ually  -aid  to  fro\\n.  but.  -peakinir  more  to  the  card,  the   irrin  i- 
more  Ire.iuent  than  the  frown  :  and  here.  nuiTirini;  through  the  j 
of  the  Narro\\-.  \\  e   ira/.e  on  plea-ant-   height-  and  heaillanil-.  which 
seem   the   pretlie-t    place-    in    tli.-    world    for   summer  dwellings    and 
No  one  will  deny  the   beauty  of  t).  M   it    i-,  or  will 

(|lle-!i..n   its    future    Ml-eeptibiliticN.        Let     U-    ad«'|)t    the  ri-ht    epiti 

In    pa-iiiLT  out    to  sea.  witli   the   bn.a.l   level    ranire    of    the   Atlantic 

re  u-.  irlouiiiLT   purph;  in  the  evening  -unlii:ht.  we  find  it  ea- 
lielirve.  ira/ini:  behind   u-   upon   the  ,-hore.  that,  for  the  charm  of   a 
pleasiiiLT   land-cape,  a  quirt    home,  a  dear   n-tn-al   for   peace   and   OOJfr 
U'lnplation,  no  re-ion  pie-  nl-  hi_  tiOM  than  we  tiud  auioug 


18  s<>(Tii\VAi;i>   no  ! 

the  shores  which  lead  from  Sandy  Hook  to  tin-  city  «.f  Manhattan, 
and  spread  away  from  that  up  the  valley  of  the  Hudson,  till  we  p:i>s 
beyond  the  Catskill  ranges. 

"  You  are  like  all  the  rest  of  the  outsiders"  said  my  companion, 
querulously.  "It  takes  a  New  York  eye  to  see  and  appreciate  the 
sublimity  of  the  Hudson." 

"Precisely.  That  is  just  what  I  say.  It  is  the  New  York  eye 
only  which  makes  this  discovery.  Hut  we  are  olT.  There  pu-s  tin- 
gun! — and  farewell,  for  the  present,  to  our  goodly  Gotham.  Ah! 
there  is  Iloboken  !  How  changed  for  the  wor-e.  as  a  picture,  from 
what  it  was  when  I  first  knew  it.  Twenty  years  auo,  when  I  first 
vNited  New  York,  Iloboken  was  as  favorite  a  report  with  me,  of  an 
afternoon,  as  it  was  to  thousands  of  your  citi/en^.  Its  beautifully 
sloping  laws  were  Driven  and  shady  Now!  oh!  the  sin-;  of  brick  and 
mortar!  There.  1  first  knew  Bryant  and  Sands,  and  wandered  with 
them  aloni:  the  shore's,  at  sunset,  or  strolled  away,  up  the  heights  of 
AVeehawken,  declaiming  the  irraceful  verses  of  Halleck  upon  the 
scene.  All  is  altered  now  !  Vale!" 


CHAPTER    III. 

"  Tlio  worM's  in i nt •  OJ 
Which  I  with  <wnnl  will  op.-n  " 

on;   -valuers  do    not  take  long  in  getting  out    to    sea.     We 
have  no  such    tackin.ir   ami   backing,    and   sidling    and    idlimr.    U 
atllicted     and    rmli:irra»rd    the    movements    of  tin-    ancient    ; 
ship-,    after   they  had   tripod   anchors.     On    the   present  occasion, 

-M  1    \\ent    ahead  with  a  will,  and  though    not    tl, 
our    Steamers,    yet     with  a    power   of   her   own,    particularly    in  a 
h-avv    sea,    and    with    lively     lnvr/.es,    which    enables    her,     under 
such    circumMa!.'  ahead  with    the  l>ra\«-t.      We    \\eiv 

soon  out  of  the   hook,  with   our    HOM-   >et    south,   a  mild 

•  iinir  u<  onward,  holdini;  out  r<>*\  wreaths  and  halox  in 
the  wart,  \\hith  M  lined  to  pn»nii>e  well  fot  the  haliny  clinie  t« 
which  our  OOQ11  Dt  The  lnvc/e.  tlmuirh  fre>h,  was  soft 

and   warm,  and  the    sea  as  smooth  as  the  hhindUhnu-nts  of  a   pop- 

:ator.     The    so  MiHicicntly  :ui.xpicioiis    to    l>riug    alJ 

11    deck,     where    they    grouped    ahollt     ! 

cordinir    to    their    >e\eral    alVmiti. •>.       I    kept    my     promise   to     mj' 
companion,    and    introduced    him    to    the  intenMin<r    lady  in  dove 
colon-d  inu-lin. 

-s   HurroiiL'h-.  -ulTer  me  to  introduce  to  you  my  friend.   Mr 
Edgar  I)uy<  kman.  of  New  York." 

ladyl»"\\ed  Lrraeiou-ly  —  iny  friend  was  Mip<-rlativ«-  in  coiir 
i.-light   in  makin.i:  her  acquaintance. 

She  Miiiled.  a.s  she   rejilied  — 

••  Mr.  Duyekmaii  nenMtO  f-.r-et  that  he  enjoyed  this  pleasure  on 

I  iou-  oc< -a>ioM." 

"Indeed!     \\lnre.   Miss  Burroughs?"  was  the  response.     Oir 
Etlgar  wasrvidently  diMjuirh-d.     The  lad>    -miled  a-ain.  the  small- 

twinkle    of    the    «mi/    |  ut      from   the 

of  her  eyes. 

19 


20  SOUTHWARD    BOJ 

"Both  at  Newport  and  Saratoga.  I  Jut  I  can  hardly  complain 
that  the  impression  which  1  made  upon  his  memory  wraa  BO  >light, 
remembering  how  many  were  the  eyes,  da/./.led  like  his  own.  by  the 
lila/.e  of  Mi—  Kvcrton's  heautv." 

Very  rich  was  the  suffusion  upon  Kdgar's  cheek.  Hr  ],:,,l 
been  one  of  the  heedle-s  beetles,  who  had  his  wings  singed  in 
that  beauty's  bla/.e.  Common  rumor  said  that  lie  had  been 
mortitied  unexpectedly  by  a  rude  and  single  monosyllable.  from 
that  young  lady  in  reply  to  a  very  passionate  apostrophe.  Poo? 
fellow,  lie  was  quite  cut  up  — cut  down,  he  phrased  It— by  tin- 
extent  of  his  present  companion's  knowledge.  Hut  -he  \\a-  not 
the  person  to  press  an  ungenerous  advantage,  and  the  subject 
was  soon  made  to  give  way  to  another  which  left  the  trailed 
jade  free.  lie  soon  recovered  his  composure,  and  we  gi>t  into 
a  pleasant  chat  mostly  about  the  world  in  which  we  found  our- 
aelves  ;  -ulVering  a  "sea  change"  in  thoughts  as  well  as  in  associa 
tion.  Our  fellow-passengers,  numbering  just  enough  for  good- 
fellowship  and  ease,  were  mostly  veteran  seafarers,  to  whom 
salt  water  brought  no  atllictioiis.  We  were  pleasantly  enough 
occupied  for  a  while,  in  scanning  their  rfsagea  as  they  pa— ed. 
and  discussing  their  appearances,  and  supposed  objects.  Of 
cour>e.  a  fair  proportion  of  the  men  were  bound  south  for  busi- 
ne—  purposes.  The  ladies  wen-  but  three  in  number,  and.  like  mv 
young  friend  and  myself,  their  aim  was  for  the  mountain  country. 
As  yet,  any  notion  Of  taking  this  route  in  midsummer  had  not  en 
tered  into  the  imagination  of  summer  idler- to  conceive.  We  were, 
in  a  measure,  the  pioneers  in  a  novel  progiwv 

.My  friend  Diiyckman.  soon  becoming  interested  in  the  fair 
Selina  Burroughs  began  to  bring  forth  all  his  resources  of  read 
ing  and  experience.  II. •  had  an  abundant  supply  of  graceful 
and  grateful  resources,  and  was  capable  of  that  plea-ant  sort  of 
intellectual  trifling  which  is  perhap-  the  mo-i  current  of  nil  tin 
light  coin  of  society.  The  moment  that  he  could  fairly  ft.rgei 
the  /Hufujif'ji'Hi  reference  to  the  beautiful  coquette  of  Newport, 
he  became  ea-v.  fluent  and  interesting,  and  under  his  lend  the 
chat  became  at  once  lively  and  interesting,  relating  particularly 
to  the  scene-  about,  and  the  pro-pect  before  u-.  The-e.  as  I 
have  shown,  were  sulliciently  pleasant  and  promi-im'.  The  sun 
was  .set,  but  the  -hon  -  Ia\  -till  in  sight,  a  dim  edging  of  coast, 


TIN:   01  3TEH    \\  M;.  '.'I 

;t    daik  :    riliainl    alonir    111- 

of  our  latitude,  and  tin-  points  of  shore,  as  we  pa—ed,  could  -till 
be  identified  and  named.  It  is  ea-y  enough  fnl-  American-  to  pa.— 
from  tin-  pre-cnl  to  antiquity,  and.  make  a  hurried 

tran-ition    to    tin-    future.     The    orat..r   \\h«>    doe-    not    be-in    at   the 

Of  at    lea-t   with    tin-    tir-1  '  .  ly  -at- 

i-ties  the  popular  requisition  on  \\i\^  head.  Thus,  coming  <>ul  of 
the  mouth  of  the  Hud-on.  it  was  matter  of  cotir-e  that  \ve  should 
meditate  tli.  I  '  :  II:'  l<  k.  oi  tliat  Ilk,  the  tir-t  ' 

etratethe   m .hie  aveii':  MI  from  whieh  \\ e  had   ju-t   <  in.-rired. 

DO  disparagement  to  the  ancient  mariner,  that  my  friend  dealt 
with  him  in  a  vriu  not  divximilar  to  that   iu^whieh  Irvim:  di-pov.-d  of 

at  men  uC  the  Dutch  dyna-ty.  the  Van  Twillers.  the  Stuyves- 

•.d  Other  Unpronounceable  dignitaries       He  pa->ed,  l»y  natural 
transitions,  to  modern  periods 

"  Perhaps,  the   MM-I    rxeiiiu-  ..f   n cent    event-   Js   the  oyster  war 

M  the  (iothamite-  and  .Ie-  The  history  of  this  amusinir 

:•  ]»lunder  is  one  that  should  lie  put  on  record  l»y  a 
l>e<  Minim:  mii-e.  I»  is  ;i  tit  sul.ject  f«.r  an  epic.  I  would  recommend 
H  '  Baymrd  Taylor,  or  Dr.  Holme-.  The  fust  .-ential  is  to  be 
found  in  tin-  opp-.-sit,-  i  hararteri-tics  (.f  the  rival  races.  They  are 
sutliciently  di-tinct  f..r  contrast  —  York  and  .ler-ey  —  as  much  so 

•  k    and    Trojan.      A    study    of   details    would   afford    u-    the 

Achilles  and  HeotMi-.  the  I  ;\.  and    Ther-ites.     Nor  should 

:    a  piou-   priest  or   two.  since,  in  modern  time-,  piety  i-, 

rure  nuinl"  •  d   to   In-  only  a   tit    training   fi-r   habits  of 

lion." 

••  It  turiii  .in-lit  ma-k.  at  all  event-." 

"YCS,  and    wa-    n.-t    \\antinir    in    this    e,>nte-t.      The    nun; 

.    irafl    sutliririit    to   enli-1    all  varieties  of  character, 
and    it  na-  a    maiter    of  \ital    interest    to  one  of  the   parti. --at  lea-t. 

Th.    mulk  i-    republic  .1    in    the   -ui.ject  of 

Tin-     .  and     enterprise     of     the    . I.  r.  \an-    had 

r   from    hi-   native   abode-,   and    ,-u 

him    to   the   u-ual    pr  .  i/ili/at  i.Mi.      They  had  planted  him 

lite    pla<  , -.   and    -iven    due   attention   to   hi-   traininir.      Tin- 
fill,    and   t'M.k    hi-   educalion    naturallv.      II 

and     fatted,    and    the     benevolent     .1  \\atehed    hi-     -:ro\\th 

ami    iinpnivrinent    with  daily    .  :  .mlly   forward    to   the 


•J-.'  MUTllWAKI)    IK)  ! 

time  when  he  should  take  his  place  in  the  gratified  presence  of 
the  great  and  noble  of  the  land.  Famously  did  the  oyster  grow 
—  thus  considerately  protected  —  until  he  rose  conspicuous  in 
every  estimation  among  the  gastronomes  of  Gotham.  These 
looked  with  equal  envy  and  admiration  upon  the  performances 
of  their  neighbors.  Little  did  Jcr-ey  su-pect  the  danger  that 
awaited  her  favorites.  But  cunning  and  cupidity,  and  eager 
lust,  and  ravenous  appetite,  were  planning  desolation  and 
throw  to  the  hopes  of  these  guardians  of  the  innocent.  Kvil  de 
signs  were  plotted  —  cruel,  treacherous,  barbarous,  like  those 
which  finally  routed  the  poor  nuns  at  midnight  from  their  Charles- 
town  convent.  And  great  was  the  shock  and  the  horror  of  Jersev 
when  the  assault  was  finally  made  under  the  cover  of  night  and 
darki 

"Truly,  Mr.  Duyckman,  you  make  a  livelv  picture  of  the  evem. 
Tray   go  on:     I    am   interested    to    know  the 'result.     What    of    the 
-s  of  the  war  ?     I  confess  to  only  a  slight  knowledge  of  the 
affair." 

"  Without  the  documents,  I  cannot  go  into  particulars.  To 
collect  these  would  require  a  life.  To  depict  them  properly 
would  demand  a  Homer.  The  war  between  the  crane-  and 
would  alone  furnish  a  just  plan  for  such  a  history.  I 
inu-t  content  myself  witlv  a  summary.  But,  were  you  to  have 
proper  portraits  of  the  fierce  Sam  Jones,  the  redoubtable  Pete 
Pinnock.  Ben  the  Biter.  Barney  the  Diver.  Bill  the  Raker,  Ned 
the  Devourer,  'and  a  score  or  two  more,  on  both  sides,  who  dis- 
tinguished  themselves  in  the  field  during  this  bivalvular  cam- 
paigr.  you  would  feel  that  there  are  ^\}]\  provinces  fur  the  epic 
011186,  in  which  she  might  soar  as  gloriou-ly  as  she  ever  did  in 
the  days  of  Ilium.  Jersey  ro-e  to  the  necevxjije-  of  the  occa 
sion.  AVe  will  say  nothing  about  her  int>r<*t  in  this  event;  but 
her  pride  was  involved  in  the  secuiity  of  her  virgin  beds;  and 
when,  prompted  by  cupidity,  these  were  invaded. 
by  the  grasping  Gothamite-,  who  desired  to  share  the 
which  their  valor  had  not  been  sufficient  to  achieve,  it  was  not 
to  be  wondered  at  that  all  .b-r-ey  should  ri-e  in  arms.  The 
public  sentiment  wa.-  unanimous.  From  Newark  to  Ab 
but  a  single  cry  was  heard.  Fn.m  Jersey  City  to  Cape  May, 
the  beacons  \\ere  lighted  up.  The.  cry  'To  arms!'  spread  and 


SAM   .IM.N  i:i<;. 

echoed    far     and     wide,     fn»in     tin-    111  •'•  rk0D    to    the 

lini:  «.f   each    .Jer-«-\an    was    that    i.( 

rth  Carolinian    fn>m   Tar  ri\vr.  mi    hi-    \\  ay   to   Te\a>,  when 

In-    heard    of    Santa    Anna'--    invasion    of    tin-  .r    republic. 

They  tlouri-hed  tlu-ir  plover  urun-,  \\lwri-  the  son  of  tin-  «>ld   North 

•!"»rMird  liis  ri!le.  pn-pariiii:.  like  him.  I  'in-ir  rights, 

\\  -  !1    midii    the   oy-it  r   family    Ix-mmr    proud   of    the 

excitement  occasioned  l»y  the  contemplated  invasion  of  their  abode-. 

The  banner  of    lu-t    and    avariee,    carried    liy   the   (inthamiti 

forward  with  siilliciciit   audacity  to  show  the  estimated  value 
of   the  pr: 

Hen-  our  captain   put   in   with   a   fragment  of  one  of  the  ballads 
on  the  oeea-ion  : 

"  It  was  Sum  .Joiie<.  the  ti-heriiiiiii.  <<•  t.ime.l  at  Saii'l\   !!•><, k. 
That,  ri^iny  prmi'lly  in  the  inii|>t.  the  uy<ter-liaiMier  took, 
Arnl  \va\eil  it  n'er  the  host,  until,  couvutoed  In  r\ery  joint, 
'I'll,  |  -h  him  a  ini>rht\  ->atli  l»  ra|»tui-'  :nt  : 

pietun-s  a^  he  ill-  hoanled  th 

MK  h   prospect!  "<'  tlie  future  -tew.  the  ln-oil  ami  l'ryt<>  >h 

•  T  Komaii,  Turk  »r  (ii.th,  with  such 
..-li  a  tiei-ee  niai-.ui'lei-  leil.  to  raid  <u-  -laughter  went. 
All  tflnry  to  Sam  .Jmies  the  IJiir      a  ini^rhtN  man  was  he; 
An-t  wlien  he  :  .'  may    I   IN-  tin -i 

.in!    you  are  as  Lr«»(>d  a^  a  chronicler.      Let   us  have 
the  q 

•'  Tin:    i-    all    I    ivroll,,'    ,|    the   ballad;   but.  had    I    knowi 

.  we    tniirht    have   ur«'t    it    all   "Ut  <>f    the  pilot,      lie 

.    the    war,    and    WM  the    wounded  —  taken  with  the 

!    an    oy-ter-hell   on    the    h-ft    in»-tril.    where    he    rarri.-s 

tin-     proof    of     his    valor    to    ihU    day    in    a    num-!'  •.      The 

only  further    euri»us    fart     I     know,    in    the    hMi.ry.    i>    that     the 

-aiil    sear   al\vay>    «»p.  h    in    the    '  1\     month-,     -the 

The  cariOUi   fid    thu-  -laied   led  to  some  di-cu— i..n  ,,f  the 
suhjeet    of    moral    and    phy-ical    atliniti.-.    in    uhii-h    \\> 

the    philnMiphii-s    of    Sir    Ken.  hn       •  ::d     Hahneinann. 

From  HUM-   u.    ei-neluded   that   there  i-  a  latent  truth  in  the  vulirar 

•    \\hieh    a^rt-K    "the    hair   «.f    (In  <>d    for   the 

• !.  \\liirh    we    hold    in  be   the   true  h..me- 

opathy.     Tlie  practical   in:  OQMtOB   \\a>   i:. 


SOUTHWARD    m>! 

pil:>t  could  do  nothing  more  likely  to  effect  the  care  <>f  hi.-  abraded 
nostril,  than  to  subject  his  nose  to  an  oyster  scraping  in  all  the 
youths  which  contain  the  irritating  letter.  This  episode  over,  our 
Gothaniite  continued  his  narration  : 

"The  inva.-ion  of  the  oyster-beds  of  Jersey,  thus  formidablv 
led  by  Jones  the  Big,  was  at  first  a  surprise.  The  Jenejana 
never  dreamed  of  the  malice  of  their  neighbors.  Hut  they  had 
been  vigilant,  and  were  valiant.  The  Jersey  Hlne-  had  enjoyed 
a  MTV  honorable  reputation  for  valor  from  the  Revolutionarv 
period,  not  exceeded,  perhaps  s<aicelv  .-quailed,  by  any  of  the 
neighboring  colonie>.  They  had  a  proper  pride  in  maintaining 
this  reputation.  It  was  at  once  a  question  of  life  and  honor, 
and  they  rushed  fearle-sly  to  the  rescue.  The  slaughter  of 
their  innocents  had  begun,  and  they  were  suffered  but  little  time 
for  preparation.  Hastily  snatching  up  what  weapons  and  mis- 
rfles  they  could  lay  hands  upon,  they  darted  forth  by  land  and 
For  a  season,  the  war  consisted  of  unfruitful  skirmishes 
only,  but  the  two  armies  at  length  drew  together.  The  great  cities 
of  refuge  of  the  oyster  were  in  sight,  the  pri/.e  of  valor.  The 
audacity  of  the  invaders  increased  with  the  prospect.  Sam  .Tones 
led  his  followers  on  with  a  savage  de-peration  peculiarly  his 
own.  Very  fearful  had  been  Sam's  experience.  He  had  slept 
upon  a  circle  of  six  feet,  on  an  oyster-lied,  with  the  Atlantic  roll 
ing  around  him.  He  had  enjoyed  a  hand  to  hand  combat  with  a 
shark  of  -ixteen  feet,  in  live  fathom  water.  He  had  ceased  to 
know  fear,  and  had  learned  to  snap  his  fm-ers  at  all  enemi.-. 
.vonder,  led  by  such  a  hero,  that  the  Cothamites  went  into 
the  fray  with  a  rush  and  shout  that  shook  the  shores,  and  made 
the  innocent  mu-eles  under  water  quake  to  ihe  centre  of  their 
terrified  beds.  They  rushed  to  the  .-it tack  with  a  courage  which, 
as  the  moral  historians  are  apt  to  say,  was  worthy  of  a  better  cause. 
The  Creeks  ;it  Tr,,y.  und«Tthe  conduct  of  Aja\  the  Buffalo,  ,,ev,r 
darted  under  the  hills  and  towers  of  Ilium  with  more  defiant  de 
meanor." 

"I  am   impatient    for  the  l*SU6,"  -aid  the  lady.      "  1'ray.  how  did 

the  Jerseyana  -t.-md  the  -hock  ? " 

"  Mo^t    gallantly        a-  if  duly    inspired    by    the    innocence    \\hich 

tln-y   -<>uijit    to  defend.      The    Trojans,    led    b\     Hector  and   Trojlus, 

r   showed    liercer    power-    of    ic-i-iaiice    than    did    the   serried 


Til  i:    PALI  Of  B  \M. 

ranks  of  .Jer-ey  umlrr  tin-  terrible  eoncu— ion.  Every  man  became  a 
-ererj  boo  a.  tower  of  -tren-th  —  u  fortress.  Terrible  was  the 
encounter.  Tlie  battle  opened  \\iih  the  tli-ht  of  miflsOefl  from 
:lie  liirht  troops.  Shells  skated  throu-h  the  air.  It  wa>  in  the 
play  of  this  light  artillery  that  the  DOM  <>f  I5MI  Perkins  the  pilot, 
surtVnd  i'-  hurl-.  Another  .  ou-in  of  Sam 

—  had  the  bridge  of  his  fairly  broken.     It  has  not  been  held  passable 
since.       Hut   the   >aiii:uinury   pa— ion-  <>f    the   i\vo   parti---   were   n..t 
willing  that  the  tiirht   should  long  continue  at   n-pectt'ul  di>t;r 
Soon,  pike  <-ross<-<l  with  pike-,  oyster-nkfifl  grappled  with  oyi 
rakes;    fork-,    that   once  drove  unembarra->ed  thmuirh  tin-  lu-cioiis 

-  of    fat    victims   only,    now    found    tierce   obstruction,    and    no 
fat,  from  implement-  of  their  own   structure  and  dimensions.     The 
contlict  was  Itmir  in  -u-peii-r.  and  only  determined  in  the  fall  of  the 

-im.  the  monarch  of  Sandy  Hook.  He  succumbed 
beneath  a  blow  inllicted  by  a  y>un<_r  turtle,  which,  rau.irht  up  in 
hi-  de-jMTatioii  by  Halph  K-  j  Tuckah«M-.  was  whirled  about 

as  a  Mnnr  in  a  slim:,  thric.-  ab..ve  his  head,  until  it  came  in  c«>ntaet 
with   that    of   Jones.     Shell    a-ain-t    shell.      The  crack  of  one  of 
them  was  heard.      F<>r  a  moment   the  question  was  doubtful  which. 
.  in  a  jilTy.  the  iri-rantic  bulk  of  .Jones  went  over,  like  a  thoii- 
i  nf  brick,  shaking  the  clam  bed-  f.-r  -i\ty  mfl  'he  -hore. 

An  awful  irroan  \\cnt  up  from  the  assembled  (lothamite-.  The  alTair 
wa-over.  They  [oti  heart  in  the  fall  of  their  hero,  and  thivu  down 
their  arm-  ••nqiiered  in  the  ci.ntliet." 

"Oh,  I   am  so  rejo:  ;aim«  d    Mi—   liurrou-h-.  her  proper 

•  •of   ju-tiee  naturally  sympathi/iiiLT  with  the  thn-atened  in  no, 
availed  at  midiii-ht  in  their  uneon-i  iotis  br.l-. 

"  And  what  a  punishment  was  intlicted  upon  the  maur.i 
"A   \vi\-   fearful  one.     Thirty   pri-oner-  wen-  taken:    many  had 
fallen  in  the  fiLrht  ;  inanynu>re  had   tied.     The    mi—im:   h  . 

•  iii-  da\    " 

"  \Vell,  but  the  puni>hment  ?  " 

"This  was  planned  with  a  painful  malic.-.  At  tir-t.  the  vin 
dictive  pa--ion^  ,,f  the  .ler~  Qg  Jippfnii'.>t .  it  uas  strenu- 
f>u-l\  uri'-'d  that  the  captive-  should  be  sac  rili<  ed  a>  a  «lue 
lo  uvil-docrs.  I;  '1  that  nothini;  short  i«I 


26  sormwAiiD  110  ! 


most  extreme  penalties  would  suffice  to  prevent  the  repetition 
of  the  offence.  The  nature  of  the  in  eessity  seemed  to  justify, 
with  many,  the  sanguinary  decision.  The  principle  urged  was, 
that  the  punishment  was  to  he  graduated  rather  hy  the  facility 
of  crime  than  hy  its  turpitude.  Thus,  horse-stealing  is  in  some 
regions  rated  with  murder,  simply  hecuuse,  from  the  nature  of 

-t  and  country,  it  is  supposed  that  horses  may  be  more  easily 
Moleii  than  men  slain.  Men  are,  usually  assumed  to  incline  to 
defend  their  lives  ;  hut  it  would  he  an  extreme  case  where  a 
horse,  once  bridled  and  saddled,  would  offer  any  resistance  to 
his  own  abduction.  lie  would  rather  facilitate  the  designs  upon 
his  own  innocence  by  the  use  of  his  own  legs.  The  oysters. 
more  simple,  more  confiding  than  the  horse  even,  am  still  more 
at  the  mercy  of  the  marauder.  His  crime  is,  accordingly,  in 
proportion  to  the  weakness,  the  good  faith,  the  confiding  sim 
plicity  of  the  creature,  whose  midnight  slumbers  he  invades. 
These  arguments  were  well  urged  by  one  of  the  Jersey  oyster- 
men,  who  had  once  filled  the  station  of  a  chancellor  of  one  of 
the  supreme  courts  in  one  of  the  states.  A  passion  for  Cognac 
had  lost  him  his  elevation,  and,  in  the  caprices  of  fortune,  he 
had  passed  from  equity  to  oysters.  The  transition,  now  a-days 
is  hardly  one  to  surprise  or  startle.  He  used  his  old  experience 
whenever  he  could  get  a  chance  to  practise  upon  an  audience, 
and  made  a  monstrous  long  speech  upon  this  occasion  ;  and 
very  touching  indeed  was  the  picture  which  he  drew  of  the  ten 
der  character,  the  virgin  innocence,  the  exposed  situation,  the 
helplessness  of  the  oyster  —  its  inabilities  for  self-defence,  ana 
(lie  virtues  which  commended  it  to  all  persons  of  proper  sympa 
thies  and  a  genuine  humanity  —  which  were  of  a  sort,  also,  to 
>kc  the  horrid  appetites  of  a  class  of  desperates  who  per 
petually  roamed  about,  like  the  evil  beasts  described  in  scrip- 

.  seeking  only  what  they  might  devour.     Our  ex-chancellor 

.(•d  that  the  oyster  was  to  be  protected  fmm  invasion;  that 
jiicventioii  was  ah\  ays  better  than  cure  ;  that  the  piinishiner! 

be  criminal  was  the  only  pr-.per  process  of  prevention;  thai 
law  was  only  valuable  l'»r  its  effects  in  terrorem  ;  that  the  right-. 
Df  eminent  domain  in  Jei>ey,  along  the  whole  oyster  region  in 
vaded,  conferred  upon  her  the  ri-ht  of  summary  punishment,  at 
S  !'-:rretiou.as  the  DBCCi  -ary  inc.'  'cut  of  her  sovereignty;  ami 


he    wound    up    I iy    an    eloquent    allu-ion    t«»    the 

tin-  '  <>f  mankind.     They  -unVrnl   thru.  and 

:i  only  for  :fic:iti«m  ;  and  the  lea-t    that   could 

would  be  to  put  to  death  all   person-  uho,  \\itho',. 
sunied  t«»  penetrate  their  .-lccpinur  place-  and  tear  them  from  their  ' 
with 

TO  tremble  for  the  captives."  . ninth  the  lady. 
••Well    you   may.      The  e\  chancellor  had    .Lr»ne  into 
only   after  certain    free  potations,    and   he   was   (  loquent   in  the 
tivi  ;:uation  of  the  pri<oner- 

•-  rmitted    to    hearken    to    ' 

their  crimes  and  prohaM     ! V-        II   ped  IB  ;       '-    ' 
they   waited    in   fear   and   treinl)li:iur    for   their  doom.      Fortunately, 
the    counsels    of     humanity    prevailed.       T  '-lied 

with    ha\ :  d   their  rights    ai;  : 

-      <•!'      the 

.    l)iit   did   not  allow   them   !<>  holly  without   rmn- 

ishmi  nt.       It    may   lu,'   said,   that,   conviderini^  the   apjx-tites   of    the 
ManhalTanese.  tin  y  adopted  th--   x(-\-erevf   of  all  po<sihle  putii-hii' 
\\   -h  their  ca;  tethere«l  in  *ii:lit.  they  prepared  to  iu-i 

in    which    the     M;.iihatiain--e    W6Te     not    al- 
:  To  -hare. 

"  They  provided   an   ample  -upply,  an<!  dre—ed   them   in  a 
silile    modes  l.y   \\hieli    to    tempt   tlic  de-ire-    of    the   epicure.     The 
captive-    inhaled    the    p lea-ant    fume-    of    the    fried,     they    beheld 
tin     ;  .i.juM    wiiieh   emhracrd   the   portly  ilim<  '    the 

ihev    inhaled     the    . 

mated  with  other  select  virtue*,  of    the  stew,  and   the;. 
the  delicioii-ly  l»ro\\  ii   a-pects   of    a    lame   p 
»  '  in    all    -hape-.    in    . 

regarded    the    victor-    for    thtjr   toils,    while    the    conquered,    per 
mitted    to  behold, 

•racted.   the   odoroill   >h«-!N    «  them,   and 

they  wi  re  hidden  to  eat.      '  YOU  claii:  I  in  our  b 

the  s(  ornful  speech  of  The  con. pi'  • 
Fall    to    and    \\rlcomr.'       \  :  :    and    mortiti- 

from    the    ho-oins    of     the     \ 

nity.     Sam  .lone-,  with  a  In-  I  wit  If 

.'.ounded    Initial".       :  .:eS»  — 


-fr'  SOUTHWARD    HO  ; 

no  remedy.     After  a  twenty-four  hours'  captivity,  the  offenders 
>\orc  permitted  to  go  free,  with  an  injunction  to  'sin  no  more' 
in  the  way  of  oysters.     It  needed  no  such  injunction  with  many 
of  the  party.     The  terrors  which  the  poor  fellows  had  undei > 
probably  cured  them  of  their  tastes,  if  not  their  cupidity, 
we  may  fancy  them  going  off,  mournfully  singing — 

"  So  wr'll  go  no  rnor<>  an-oysti-iing 
So  lnt->  into  the  ui»ht." 

This,  in  little,  is  the  history  of  the  war,  which,  as  I  have  sai'l. 
deserves  to  be  chronicled  for  the  future  in  Homeric  verse. 

Here  one  of  our  fellow-passengers  put  in  :  — 

"The  history  of  the  Avars  between  the  tribes  of  Gotham  and 
Jersey,  which  you  have  give-i,  has  its  parallels  in  other  states, 
I  was  on  a  visit  to  what  is  called  in  Virginia,  '  The  Eastern 
Shore/  where  they  give  you  just  such  a  narrative,  and  where 
the  oyster-beds  are  similarly  harassed  by  irresponsible  marau 
ding  parties,  most  of  whom  are  Pennsylvanians.  The  commerce 
of  this  region  is  chiefly  in  oysters.  In  all  the  bays  you  behold 
at  anchor  a  suspicious  sort  of  vessel  —  looking  for  all  the  world 
like  the  low,  long,  black-looking  craft  of  the  Spanish  /tik//*- 
From  some  of  the  stories  told  of  these  vessels,  they  are  really  not 
a  whit  better  than  they  should  be;  and  their  pursuits  are  heir1 
to  be  almost  as  illegitimate  as  those  of  the  ancient  buccai  • 
of  Nassau  and  New  Providence.  They  \\age  an  insatiate  war 
upon  one  class,  the  most  inoffensive  of  all  the  natives  of  tSic 
Eastern  Shore.  Their  most  innocent  name  is  '  pungo'  —  a  soil 
of  schooner,  hailing  mostly  from  Manhattan  and  Massachusetts 
They  prey  upon  the  Virginia  oyster  banks,  ostensibly  under  the 
forms  of  law.  IVy  contract,  they  procure  the  ordinary  'raccoon 
fcer'  -the  meanest  of  the  tribe  —  an  innocent  in  a  perfect 
Mate  of  nature  —  totally  uneducated,  at  a  shilling  (York)  per 
busliel.  These  arc  carried  off  in  large  quantities  to  the  bay.; 
and  harbors  of  Pennsylvania,  New  York,  and  places  farther 
Bast,  ami  placed  in  nurseries,  where  good  heed  is  taken  to  their 
Base,  growth,  and  physical  development,  until  they  are  iittcd  to 
take  their  places  at  table,  to  the  satisfaction  of  appreciative 
guests.  For  the  belter  oysters,  taken  from  deep  water,  and 
worthy  of  the  immediu  e  attention  of  the  public,  the  '  pun 

three  shillings.     In  the  cities  farther  north  they  an;  re-tail td 


THI.  tBIMS    IN'VADK    Till;    HUCKSK.IN3.  -'.' 

:t  tl.'  •  n — tliat    inmher  lu-in^  a  standard  allow- 

an    alde-hodied    alderman,   of  moderate    stomach —  an 
alu  .     This  is  the  only  Ic^ali/.cd  method 
Virginia  waters  ..f  their  natives.     By  this  process 
the  poorer  suit  ot'  people  an-  employed  to  gather  the  oyster,  avid 
are  thus  Compensated  tor  their  l<i Imr  —  nothing  l.cin^  allowed  for 
tlie  value  of  the  '  innocent'  victim.     As  it  is  thus  made  a  husinesa 
for    a    certain    portion   tt(  the    residents,   the    practice    is    tolera 
ted,  if  nut    encouraged  ;    though    it   threatens    to  destrov,   in    the 
end,  the    .  :    the    region    in    respect  to  this  commodity 

•  dam  is  appropriated  in  the  same  manner,  to  say  nothing  of 
varieties  of  ti>h. 

"  Hut  there  are  :  m  who  pursue  another  practice ;    who 

seize  with  the  strong  hand  —  who   make   formidalde  descents,  at 
Unreasonable  hmus  and  seasons,  and  rend  and  carry  oiV  iim:i< 
(jnantities,  without  leaving  the  usual  toll.      To    tin  .  the 

,1  the  patriotism  ol'  the    peOpl€  are  alwavs  keenly 
alive  ;   and  fearful  issues,  tooth  and  nail,  are  sometimes  the  con- 
nee. 

'  On  <»ne  occasion,  not  lonjj  a^o,  the  Virginians  of  that  region 

.n  inklinjr  "f  a  t'ormidalde    invasion  l»y  the  rennsylvanians. 

The  'hah  ere  lighted  accordingly  ;  —  the  horn  was  Mown, 

and    ;>    general    ^atherin-r   took    jdace   of  all  within  striking  dis- 

I'he  'Old  l).,mininn'  is  not  easily  mused,  heing  huge  of 

form,  indolent,  and  easily  pacilied  ley  appeals  to   her  magnitude 

and  [  You  may  take   many  liherties  with  her,  so  long 

•ii  do  not    ruflle    her   .-elf-e>teem — nay,  you  may  absolutely 

meddle  with    her   ]>o(d<.ethook    if  \i>u  will   do   the  tiling  adroitly 

nml  without    di>turhin^   her  sirxtn  ; — hut  heware  how  yon  carry 

oil    her   oysten  without    paying   the    customary   toll.      She   can't 

stand  that. 

"On  this  occasion,  whi^r  and  democrat,  for^ettinj^  old  snarls, 
li  with  a  hearty  will.  Thev  stood  shoulder  to  shoulder, 
and  the  same  horn  summoned  equally  l.oth  parties  to  the  con 
flict.  I:  miiion  cause,  and  thev  promptly  agreed  to  go 
together  to  tin-  death  for  their  rights  in  oysters.  As  in  the  case  of 
the  comiMtants  of  (iotham  and  J  ich  side  had  its  famous 
captains  —  its  Aj.iv.-,  and  ;  Hut  the  rennsylvanians 
8i»ti«-re'l  from  a  falling;  of  the  he.ut  hi-fore  ti  U)  hi.  WS 


30  SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 

Whotl  31-  :t  was  that  their  conscientiousness  was  loo  active  01 
their  courage  too  dormant,  they  submit  ted  before  they  came  to 
blows;  and  the  whole  foraging  party  —  'the  entire  swine'  — 
an  entire  tribe  of  that  peaceable  sachern,  P&nn —  in  a  body, 
every  mother's  son  of  them  —  eighty  or  ninety  in  number — 
were  driven  into  an  extemporary  logpen  at  the  muzzle  of  the 
musket.  Around  this  our  angry  Virginians  kept  vigilant  watch 
The  Quaker  that  raised  head  above  the  battlements,  though 
but  to  peep  out  at  the  evening  sunset,  was  warned  backward  with 
a  tap  of  spear  or  shilelah.  They  were  held  thus  trembling  foi 
two  or  three  days  in  durance  vile,  un.til  they  had  paid  hcav) 
ransom.  It  required  some  fifteen  hundred  dollars,  cash,  befon 
the  foragers  were  released.  This  was  a  famous  haul  for  our 
guid  folk  of  the  Eastern  Shore.  For  some  time  it  had  the  effect 
of  keeping  off  trespassers.  But  when  was  cupidity  ever  quieted 
short  of  having  its  throat  of  greed  cut  at  the  carotid  ?  The 
practice  has  been  resumed,  and  our  Eastern  Shore  Virginians 
are  again  beginning  to  growl  and  to  show  their  teeth.  When  I 
was  there  last,  they  were  brushing  up  their  guns,  and  newly 
priming.  They  promise  us  a  new  demonstration  shortly,  both 
parties,  whig  and  democratic,  preparing  to  unite  their  forces  to 
prevent  their  innocent  young  shellfish  from  being  torn  away 
from  their  beds  at  midnight." 

"And  loving  oysters  as  I  do,  I  am  free  to  say  they  could  not 
peril  their  lives  in  a  more  noble  cau&o.  Stamped  paper  and  to* 
were  nothing  to  it  " 


(    ILA  I'TKi;   I  V. 

"With  song  and  story  make  the  long  way  short." 

Tin-:  sea   never   fails  to  furnish   noble   studies  to  those  who,  by 

frequent  travel,  have  succeeded  in  overcoming  its  annoyances. 
But  the  number  is  few  who  feel  reconciled  to  calm  thought  and 

patient    meditation   while   roaming,   at    large   and    lone,   on    its  wil- 
dernes<   of    bo-om.     Tho-e   only    •who  have   completely    undergone 
that   sea  change,   of  which  Shak-^pere  tells   us  in   the   "Temp- 
can  yield  themselves   fairly  up  to   the  fancies  which   it  inspires  and 
the    subliming    thought     which     it   awakens.     Unhappily,     to    the 

kter    number  of  those    the    subject    has    lost     all     its    fresh: 
When   we  have  BO   frequently   bo\ed   the  compa-s,   that   we  can 
"Lay   hands  upon  old  neean's  inane. 

And  play  familiar  with  his  hoary  l>  •• 
he   forfeits  all   his  my-terie-. 

It    i-  surprising  to  note   how    little  there   is    really   visible   in  the 
P<    to    tho-e    who   go  down    frequently    upon    tin-   waters. 
To    BUd    ey«l    thej    eveE    lose    their  va-tness,    their    vagueness,   the 
immensity   which    batlles   vision,    and    tills  the    mind    with  its    most 
imp!  ;s    of     eternity.      Your    "Old     Salt"    is    a   notorious 

sk'ptic.  He  wears  his  forefinger  perpetually  upon  the  side  of 
his  no-e.  lie  i-  not  to  be  amused  with  fancies  and  chimeras, 
lie  ha-  outgrown  wholly  his  >eii<e  of  wonder,  and  his  thought 
of  tl;  "inewhat  allied  with  the  contemptuous,  as  was  that 

of  the  Mississippian  for  the  brown  bear  whom  he  had  whipped 
in  Millie  combat.  AS  for  marvels  ami  my-teric-  in  the  creature 
—  beauties  of  splendor  or  grandeur — the-e  wholly  elude  his 
thoughts  and  eyes.  If  lie  appreciates  the  B68  at  nil,  it  is  solely 

1    it-  sharpening  ell'eet    upon   his  appetite! 
of   thOM  WEyfaren  whom   y««u    nn-ct    often    upon   the   route 
In-long   to    this   order.      You    will    find    them    at    all     times    pet-ring 
into    the    larder.      In   tin  '.  i;n    of    it,   and    you   will 

31 


V2  SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 

hear  tnoken  speeches  from  their  lips  which  show  their  meuioruv 
Efrill  busy  with  yesterd,  .  or  their  anticipations  preparii.«: 

fur  that  (if  the  morrow.  The  steward  anil  cook  aboard-ship 
the  first  persons  whose  acquaintance  they  make.  These  thev 
bribe  with  shillings  and  civilities.  You  will  scarcely  open  youi 
B  in  the  morning,  ere  you  will  see  these  "hail  fellows"  with 
•  and  tankard  ii:  their  clutches  ;  a  bowl  of  coffee  and  a  crack 
er  :-,  the  initial  appetizer,  with  possibly  a  tass  of  brandy  in  the 
purple,  leverage,  as  a  lacer.  Then  you  see  them  hanging  about 
th'j  breakfast  table,  where  they  take  care  to  plant  themselves 
in  tin-  nea:  neighborhood  of  certain  of  the  choicest  dishes.  All 
their  little  arrangements  are  made  before  you  get  to  the  table, 
and  there  will  be  a  clever  accumulation  of  good  things  about  the 
plates  of  these  veterans,  in  the  shape  of  roll  and  egg,  etc.,  which 
would  seem  destined  to  remind  the  proprietor,  in  the  language 
of  warning  which  was  spoken  daily  (though  with  a  far  different 
object)  to  the  monarch  of  the  Medes  and  Persians — "  llemem- 
ber.  thou  art  mortal." 

Tin*  is  a  fact  which  our  veterans  of  the  high  seas  never  forget. 
Tlu-y  cany  within  them  a  sufficient  monitor  which  ever  cries, 
like  the.  daughter  of  the  horse  -leech,  "  (Jive  !  Give!"  They 
have  no  qualms  of  conscience  or  of  bowels  ;  and  it  seems  to  do 
them  rare  good  to  behold  the  qualms  of  others.  It  would  seem 
that  they  rejoiced  in  these  exhibitions,  simply  as  they  are,  as 
sured  by  these,  that  the  larder  is  destined  to  no  premature  in 
vasion  on  the  part  of  the  sufferers. 

1  have  often  looked  upon  this  class  of  travellers — not  with 
envy,  Heaven  fmvfcnd  !  — though  it  would  have  rejoiced  me  fre 
quently,  at  sea,  to  have  possessed  some  of  their  immunities — 
Chat  rare  insensibility,  for  example,  in  the  regions  of  diapnragm 
and  abdomen,  which,  if  unexercised  for  appetite,  might  at  least 
suffer  other  sensibilities  to  be  free  for  exercise. 

Uut  it  has  provoked  my  wonder,  if  not  my  admiration,  chat 
inflexible  stolidity  of  nature,  which  enables  the  mere  mortal  &(r 
entirely  to  obtain  the  ascendency  over  the  spiritual  man.  Our 
gourmand  sees  no  ocean  waste  around  him  —  follows  no  tumbling 
Billows  with  his  eye — watches  not,  with  straining  eagerness, 
jrbsre  the  clouds  and  the  waters  descend  and  rise,  as  it  were  in 
c*  embrace  of  passion.  Sunrise  only  tells  him  of  kis  coffee  and 


BXA-IX 

cracker,   noon  of  lunch.  i'    tea.    and    the   rarely  sublimed 

the    moonli.irhi.  .-learning  fn.in   :i  thousand    v. 

only  a   period    of  repOtt,    in    which   diiroti.-:  D   without  any 

consciou-ne-s     «,f    that     .-real    en-ine    which    he    has  all    day    1 

!!iir  with     fuel.     Tell    him     of    porpota    and    >hark,    and     hi- 
prayer  i-    that    they  may     he    taken.      He   ha-   n..  -erupl.  •-  to  try  a 
k     from    the    rib-    ..f  a    -hark,    th"uuh   it    may    have    swallow,  d 
hfa    own    irrandmother.     Of  the    porpofae    he   ha-    heard  a-  Hi- 

and  the  idea  ..f  a  n«a-t  of  it.   i-   quite   -unicient    to  justify  the 

pain-taking   "ith    which  henries   upon    the   forema-t   man  to  take 

hiv    place  at   the   prow,  in  waitinir,    with   his    harpoon.     Nay,  let  a 

,1   ,,f  dolphin-  beneath    the    hows,   dartin-  alon-  with 

-  ful    and  playful    sweep,  in  p.ld    and   purple,   -lancing  through 

hillow-.    like      so    many    rainbows     of    the    deep,     he    thinks 

of  them    only    as    a  fry  —  an    apology    for    whitin-   and  eavalli.   of 

which    he    -i-h-    with    the    tcmlcn-t    recollection-,   and    for  which 

he    i-   always  aii\i«  >u-  '• '  linil   a  suh-litute.      I    have  alreailv    obeOTVed 

that  \\e  have  t\\o  or  three  -peeimen>  of  this  ffe**t  no\\    00  hoard  the 

•n 

••  I  don't  know."   said  our    fair  companion.  "  !>ut    that  steam  has 
rohlied  i!,.  equally  of  iNeharm-and  teTTOW." 

"Ah'  we    ha\e   now     no    loi  -       JToOl    OOtttwiM    trav- 

Hlin-    scl.lom    takes    you    from    •  i-ht     of    land,     and    you  seal 

from  t!ie  pier  head  in    one  city,   before  you   be-in    to  look  out 
ihe    liirhthou-e  of     another.      Kven     when    CTOasing     tl 

:  niovi-  now  -o  rapidly,  and  in  such  mi-rhty  \ « —eK.  that 
you  c:>.rr\  a  -mall  city  with  you  — a  community  ade»juate  to  all  your 
absolute  wher 

••Well,    there    i-  M.methinir  plea-ant."  sai«l  one.  .Me  to 

tlin  •    into    your    berth    in   one  city    only    to  awa,<en  in  an- 

'   -hai    it    takei     away    all    motive    to    thought    and 

to    look    abr.  .ad     and    about    in 
Th.  re   i-    little    to    amu-e    «»r     inten-t.     trav«: 

the    ship  .-it     ni.irht.    in     the     face     of   -iiK-ke    and    steam, 

v.ith   -traiiLr«-    people  u  rapped  in  cloaks,  \\hom    you  do  not 

t..   kno\\.   a>    it    i-  not    pr.pbable    thai  I   to   meet 

again    \\hen    J  i.i-morro\\.      You   mu-l  tod    l"iiely 

on  tin-    KM,    helW.  -    uiil    1".  .-•  ful    in    your 


34  SOUTH  WARD   no! 

and     reveal  their    wonders.      Steam    has     removed   this    n> 

and    thus  taken  away  all  the    wonders  of    ilu-  deej..      You    i. 

no     mysteries    in     the  surging    billow  -—  hear    no     .spiritual 

from   the  shrouds.     The   ^>ell    has  hc»  n  taken   from    the    \\ .-. 

the  trident    is  broken  in   the  hands  of   11;.  1'riton.     Steam,    a 

mightier  magic,   has    puffed  away,  as   by  a   breath,  a   whole 

of  unsubstantial,  but  very  beautiful  fable.     The  ocean  is   now    as  pa- 

tient    as  the  wild    hor.sr   under  the   lasso—  subdued  to  Ihe  will  of  a 

rider  who  was  never  known  to  .spare  whip  or  spur." 

"The  worst  feature  in  thi<  improved  navigation  is  its  unsocial 
influence.  It  deprives  you  of  all  motive  to  break  down  those 
idle  little  barriers  of  convention  which  are  apt  to  fetter  the  very 
best  minds,  and  cause  a  forfeiture  of  some  of  their  sweete-t  hu 
manities  You  seek  to  know  none  <>£  the  virtues  of  your  com 
panions,  and  certainly  never  care  to  put  in  exercise  your  own. 
One  ceases  to  he  amiable  in  a  short  voyage.  A  long  one,  on 
the  contrary,  brings  out  all  that  is  meritorious  as  well  in  your 
self  as  your  shipmate.  A  MUM-  of  mutual  dependence  is  vastly 
promolive  of  good  fellowship.  —  Then  you  966  something  of  one 
another,  and  hear  something  of  the  world.  People  show  what 
they  are,  and  tell  you  what  they  have  seen;  and  intimacies-. 
thus  formed  have  ripened  into  friendships,  which  no  after 
have  been  able  to  rupture.  Commend  me  to  the  ancient  s]ow- 
and-ea>y  packet  ships  that  left  you  time  for  all  lh<-e  thii 
that  went  between  Charleston  and  New  York,  and  never  felt 
any  impatience  to  get  to  the  end  of  their  journey  ;  that  took 
every  advantage  afforded  by  a  calm  to  nap  drowsily  on  the  bo 
som  of  the  broad  element  in  which  they  loved  to  lloat  :  — and 
rocked  la/.ily  upon  the  great  billows  as  if  coquet t in ir  with  the 
iierthan  using  them  foi  progress." 

"Then-  was  leisure  then  for  study  and  philosophy  and  poetry; 
nay,  love-making  1781  then  an  easy  and  a^ree.-fhlf  employment. 
t<>  Mi'-h  as  had  the  stomach  for  it.  It  will  not  be  easy  for  me 
to  forget  my  thousand  experiences  of  the  tender  passion  on  such 
voyages  — by  moonlight  and  starlight —  ' with  one  s\\ect  spirit 
for  my  minister,'  ga/.ing  together  on  the  great  mirror-like  ocean, 
or  up  into  the  ;  ,nk  in  Hoods  of  ten 

derness,  from  a  myriad  of  lovingev' 

"Ah!"  cried  Duyckman  archly,   "one  is  reminded. 


IMF:  Hi 

•'  'A:. 


Ah  !  tlii;  > 

"By  tin-  way,  why  should    we   m-t    have   sonic   talrr   of  wan 
1    wliy    i.  .       Misf 

Jtur.-  .V    curious   eye    t!l,.< 

-e.      May  1   hope  that  you  wu,  miiler 

The  lady  hesitated.      I  interp«>ed  :  — 

••  (  )1;  mu>t  not  h  a  nijrln  .  such 

a  mild  delicious  evening,  to  passnnempioj 

jid  in   t:.  r  lashi.'ii.      W«-   are   a  luilo  wurhl   t-j 

I  —  pil^rii.  u-il.ui-y,  ami  we   inay  well 

•nw  a  leal'  iVi'in  IJi.i-i-.-'.i-iM  ami  a  K^son  iVdin    Cham-«T.      Ymi  will 

BT  hi§ 

:  -n.      Hi-rr    are  several  w'm-in   1    ImOU 
i-ontrihution   in   the   A\  .  and   my 

1    Duyckinan  can  hardly  n  ••  Ih.w  yi.ur  example,  R8 

In  yi'iir  ear.  I  may  whisjier  that  he  is  lull  <>t'  ro- 
•nam-es,  and  \>.:\-  I  \\h-le  hudjret  »\  \<  i-mi^ht  out  (•!'  1'ro- 

.      -uhadiiur  history." 
Hoii'-r  hri^ht." 
lady  now  irraeet'ully  rouse! 

'notation    is   t'  :.      My  scruple* 

/ield  to  your  :  Will  you  order  the  guitar  T' 

h   Ifaa    hroujrht.      We  had    the  music,  hut  not  alone.      To  the 

1'urht  of  all    parties,  the  t'a;r   cliarmer   ^;\\  «•  us  her    1  . 
en    iu    \\ith    .'in    hi-torical    narnitive  —  a    romance    in    H 
which,  in  a  hrief  and    ]»lea<ant    introduction,  slie  mentioned    that 

•  It'  from  !: 

-  ,-la,  wlm  was  only  i  iintry.      1 

i  the 

•  mention  that,  in  the  lyrical  ; 

the     guitar   (ontnhuled     the    arroiupanim-  eftect   ni 

the  pieres.  thus  delivered,  was  singularly  dramatic  and  • 

(  )ur  circle  contracted  ;:  •    I  •!  lowed, 

Kixl  i   »^M!  attention,  and  slit 


36  ni\VAi:i)  HU! 


THE    STORY   OF   THE   MAID   OF   BOGOTA. 

(  HAI'TKK    J. 

WHF.XKVER  the  several  nations  of  the  earth  which  have  achieved 
their  deliverance  from  misrule  and  tyranny,  shall  point,  as  they  e;ieli 
may,  to  the  fair  women  who  have  taken  active  part  in  the  C8U88  of 
liberty,  and  by  their  smiles  and  services  have  contributed  in  no  mei* 
nred  degree  to  the  great  Ol  national  defence  and  deliverance, 

it  will  be  with  a  becoming  ami  ju>t  prick'  only  that  the  Columbians 
shall  point  to  their  virgin  martyr,  commonly  known  among  them  as 
La  Pola,  the  Maid  of  I >o;r.>t a.  With  the  history  of  their  struggle  for 
freedom  her  story  will  always  be  intimately  a^-ocialed  ;  her  tragical 
fate-,  due  solely  to  tin-  cau>e  of  her  country,  being  linked  with  all  the 
touch!:  of  the  most  romantic  adventure.  Her  spirit  seemed 

, \oveii  of  the  finest  materials.  She  was  gentle,  exquisitely 
sensitive,  and  capable  of  the  most  true  and  tender  attachments.  Her 
mind  was  one  of  rarest  endowments,  touched  to  the  liin-t  \8SOea  of 
eloquence,  and  gifted  with  all  the  p<>\\er>  of  the  impro\  ixitrice  ; 
while  her  courage  and  patriotism  seem  to  have  been  cast  in  those 
heroic  moulds  of  antiquity  from  which  came  the  Cornelius  and 
Deborahs  of  famous  memory.  Well  had  it  been  for  her  country  had 
the  glorious  model  which  she  bestowed  upon  her  people  been  Ill-Id 
in  becoming  homage  by  the  race  with  which  her  destiny  was  cast  — 
a  race  nia<<  uline  only  in  exterior,  and  wanting  wholly  in  that 
sary  strength  of  soul  which,  rising  to  the  due  appreciation  of  the 
:  national  freedom,  is  equally  prepared  to  make,  for  its 
attainment,  every  nee  rifice  of  -cif.  And  yet  our  heroine 

wa-  b;it    a  child  ii:   yean-      a  lovely,  tender,  feeble  creature,  scarcely 
ilut  the  >'»ul  grows  i-apidly  to  maturity  in  MMIK- 
counti-ies,  and,  in  the  ca-e  of  women,  it  is  always  great  in  its  youth, 

d  t<>  be  in  ii--  possession, 

Pofia     Apolii;aria     Xalabariata  —  better    known     by    the     name 

of    La    Polo  — WEB    a   young    «.rirl.    the  daughter  of   a    good    family 

Ota,   \\ho  wa<  di-liir.riii.-hed   at    an  early   period,   as  well    for 

her   gn  of    bi-aui\    UB    of    intellect.     She    was    but   a   child 


r.oi.ivAi:.  ."-7 

when     r.oliv;;-  iimenced    hi-    stniiriMt •-    with    the    Spanish 

authorities  \\iih   the   .-ten-ible   obj<ct    <.f    freeii; 
their  opp:  !'          IK.!    within    OUT    p; 

tin-    UK  ritx  of    hi- 

military   skill  •  •.     The   ;  and 

•ime    has    fair  !    liypt.rr 

claim-,  which,  for   a   .-< a-on,  pn  -um<  d    to    plat-c    him   <»n   tl 
tal  \vith   our  Wa-hin,i:t«>n.      ^^  know  tha-  .  uly 

lli>h,  l>ut   a    very    ordinary    man — m>t    <  nlinary,  jn-ri. 
in  lh<  "f    ii::cllccl,  fur    tint    w«ml<l    ! 

liiitain    lii-  'ion, 

ridons    pv  I    i:;f<-ri«)r 

•ilar   ili-lii  faculty.     IJu: 

ambition    wax    tin?    vul-ar    anihition,    and.    if  p  !iin«r 

still    infi-rinr.        It     c«.ntcnii)l.ttcd     hi-     p.-'-^.nal     wants    alone:     it 

.alien    t,f   j)iirp'»x«.    \\hich    i<    tli«-    |  r.tial 

:•  itrii>n-:n.    and    \\-i>    wholly    v.'antini:    in    that    nia-rnaniinity   of 

M»nl  which  ddiirliN   in    tin-  sacrili« 

hidi  it   p: 
pllah. 

are  nut   now  tn  COT  '••  ar    tin-  d  •;•*  one 

wh-  in    the    pantln  ,-drcady    lie*  n    dt-tcnninril    by 

UIH  rriiiLT   judgment  of    jM'stcrity.      \\<-    arc    to  behold  him  only 
with    tie  M    which    he    wax    seen    hy  the  di  \.tid   followrrx 

to    whom    he    brou.Lrht.    «  d    to    l>riii'.r,    the    <i 

v.hich     t!  •  d.         It     ix    with     the    eyefl    of    tin-     ; 

Dg   Lrirl,  I. a    1'ola.  the    bi-autiful   an<l    iriftcd    child. 
!-pettially    craved     the    republican    c.-luli 
iK    simplicitv   and    vi: 

:\ar, 
till  t<>    In  r.  i! 

.illate     thr 

Hchi.\e    likr    SUCCCKH-X    with    hix      <jr>  I    of    the    northern 

I  !:•'••:  :        •     •  ' 

Uio-e    ..f    her    family.      Her    fa  tin  r    v. 
man  Merable    intdl.  • 

me;  •  -ailually   pax^-il   from   a 

tou  :a|)athy  with    !.  a,    tuul   a:.  rt  — 


t?UUTll\YAi;jJ     IK)  ! 

so  far  as  IK-  dared,  living  in  a   city  under   immediate  and  <!> 
Spanish   rule — of   all   his  ohje-rK       lit-    followed   with 

mines   of   the  chief,  as   they    iluctuated    bet  at    and 

victory    in    other   provinces,    waiting   anxiously    the    moment   when 

and    policy    of   the   stni--lc   should   brinsj   deliv 
in   turn,    to   the  Without  taking  up  arms  him 

self,  he   contributed    secretly  from    hN   o\vn    r  ..>  supplying 

the  coffers  of  Bolivar  with  treasure,  even  when  his  operations 
were  remote  —  and  his  daughter  was  the  a-e::t  through  whose 
unsuspected  iiiini.--lry  the  money  was  conveyed  to  the 

who  were  commissioned    to   receive    it.       The  dntv    was 
equally    delicate     and    da:  -real     prudeii' 

circumspection;  and  the  skill,  address,  and  eouraire,  with  which 
the  child  succeeded  in  the  execution  of  her  trusts,  would  furnish 
a  frequent  lesson  for  older  heads,  and  the  sterner  and  the  bolder 

La  Pol  a    was    but    fourteen    years    old    wh-  :  taincd     her 

Mmpse   of   tiie   jrreat  man    in  whose   ca  1  ready 

and    of    who  •    liad 

-»  much.     P»y  the   laniruaire    of   the    Spani-h    1\  ranny    which 
i    with   iron   authority   over   her   na'ive   city  1    him 

a    rebel    ;  f,:r  whom 

an  ignominious  death  was  already  decre"d  by  the  •. 
This  laiiL'-uaue,  frotn  su<:h    lips,  was   of  ii^-lf   calculaled    to  r 

favorably  in  her  en'1  lit.      I'.y  ' 

had    1-  •" liied    to    love    and  heard    the 

name  breathed  always  in  whispers  of  hope  and  alTcction.  and 
fondly  commanded,  with  tearful  ble— iii--s,  to  the  watchful  care  of 

en. 

Sh«-  was   SMI m     to    beliold     with    her  own    eyea    this    individual 

thu-    equally    di-i  in-ui-hed    by    hate    and  j:!    her    h-arinu'. 

Bollivei-   appri/ed   his    friends  in    Px-L'ola    tliat    h"  should  \  Kit   them 

t.     That   iirovince.  ruled    with  a   fear!'  :-d    liy 

Zamaiio.    the    viceroy,    had    imt    y.-t   venJur.  d    to    di  '  --If    for 

public.       I-  and  it 

;,     in    pene- 

pital,    and   lay'  i     fomenting    in- 

the   tyrant.      It   was 
i.dsi  that   the   i..  .r 


thfc   mi.-si\vs    tl;at    communicated   this   impoi taut    intelligent 
Uei  lather.      She  little  knew  tin*  contents  <»f  tlie  hillet  wMeh  she 
carried  him  i:  i  ho  confide  them  to  the  child.      !!«• 

hiiiibeli  -livl  not  dream  of  the  prec  \tent  of  that  entlm.-! 

Dually  i'ur  the  common  cause,  and  for  tho 
-a  of  its  great  advocate  and  champion.      Her  father  simply 
praised   he"   care    and    diligence,  rewarded    her  with   his  foi 

.aid  then  proceeded  with  all  quiet  despatch  to  make  hid 
pn-j  eception  <.f  the  deliverer. 

It  was  at    midnight,  and  while  ,1   thu:ider-storm   was   racing 
y,  making  his  way,  agreeably  to  previous 
arrangement,  and    under  select    ;•;•.::. l.ihce,  into   the  inner  a; 
ineiits  "t'the  liuiise  cf  Zalahariata.      A  meeting  of  the  conspira- 
b    they  were  —  "f  head  men  among  the  patri-  • 

contemplated  for  his  reception.     Several  oi 
them   were    accordingly   in    attendance   when    he   came.      T' 

••ntiments  were  well-knnwn  to  he  friendly 
:se  «»f  liherty,  who  had  sufleretl  l«y  the   hand-',  or  weiv 
purMU'd  hy  the  suspicions  of  Zaman«»,  and  who,  it  was  naturally 
^fil\-  ali\t-   tn  every  opportunity  of  .sha 
ll'  the  rule  uf  the  oppiessor. 
Hut    pati  a  philosophic    sentiment,  to   be   indulged 

.inner,  and   discussed    phlegmatically,  if  not  cl 
call;.  very  iliiVerent    sort  of  thing 

iVoin    patrit.t'iMii   as  a  principle  of  action,  to  be  prosecuted 

.  !1,  instantly  and   always,  to  the   death  if  need 
(Mir  pat.  -nta  were  hut  too   frequently  of  the  COD- 

IrmpLtivr.  tin-    philo>opliical   order.      I'atriot'i.-^m  with   them  n  as 
lather    a    Mihject    f«n-    el<'i|iieni-e   than    use.      They    coiihi    n 

Q         -e   and  Rome  which   furnish   us 
.   than    !'act>,  and    -  like  those  of 

,    Hiutu.-.  Hut    more    than   this  did   not 

i    their   in:aginations  a>  at   all    necessary  to   assert 
die   diaracter  which  it  pleased    tl,,.,,  inaintaii, 

M  which    tlu'V  had    prosjiectively  acijuiretl    for   the 

tc    which    i-on>tituted    their    ordinary    theme. 
Bol'r.  Id.      tLCCOMt  mod  to   o-.-erthr-.w  an«(  usur 

pation,  tl.  nuw  slow    to  .iiul   lile   upon 

<ht   predictions  aiid   promises  of  one   who,  however  perfect   im 


tO  SOUTHWARD   HO  ! 


estimation  as  a  patriot,  had  yet  buffered  from  -nost  capr: 
cious  fortunes.  His  past  history,  indeed,  except  for  its  patriotism 
offered  but  very  doubtful  guarantees  in  favor  of  the  enterpri-jo 
t-.  which  they  were  invoked. 

Bolivar  was  artful  and  ingenious.  He  had  considerable  p  r,v- 
01  s  of  eloquence  —  was  specious  and  persuasive;  had  an  oily,  and 
bewitching  tongue,  like  Belial  ;  and,  if  not  altogether  capable  of 
making  the  worse  appoar  the  better  cause,  could  at  least  s<>  shape 
the  aspects  of  evil  fortune,  that,  to  the  unsuspicious  nature,  they 
•would  seem  to  be  the  very  results  aimed  at  by  the  most  deliber 
ate  arrangement  and  resolve. 

But  Bolivar,  on  this  occasion,  was  something  more  than  inge 
nious  and  persuasive;  he  was  warmly  earnest,  and  passionately 
eloquent.  In  truth,  he  was  excited  much  beyond  his  wont.  He 
was  stung  to  indignation  by  a  sense  of  disappointnent.  lie  had 
calculated  largely  on  this  meeting,  and  it  promised  now  to  be  a 
failure.  He  had  anticipated  the  eager  enthusiasm  of  a  host  of 
brave  and  noble  spirits,  ready  to  fling  out  the  banner  of  freedom 
to  tho  winds,  and  cast  the  scabbard  from  the  sword  for  ever. 
Instead  of  this,  he  found  but  a  little  knot  of  cold,  irresolute  men, 
thinking  only  of  the  perils  of  life  which  they  should  incur,  and 
the  forfeiture  and  loss  of  property  which  might  accrue  from  any 
hazardous  experiments. 

Bolivar  spoke  to  them  in  language  less  artificial  and  much 
more  impassioned  than  was  his  wont,  lie  was  a  man  of  impulse 
rather  than  of  thought  or  principle,  and,  once  arouscu,  the  in 
tense  fire  of  a  southern  sun  seemed  to  burn  fiercely  in  all  his 
words  and  actions. 

His  spcer.li  was  heard  by  other  ears  than  tho^e  to  which  it 
was  addressed.  The  shrewd  mind  of  La  Pola  readily  conjec 
tured  that  the  meeting  at  her  father's  house,  at  midnight,  and 
ander  peculiar  circumstances,  contemplated  some  extraordinary 
object.  She  was  aware  that  a  tall,  mysterious  stranger  had 
passed  through  the  court,  under  the  immediate  conduct  of  hci 
lather  himself.  Her  instinct  divined  in  this  stranger  the  person 
A  the  deliverer,  and  her  heart  would  not  suffer  her  to  lose  the 
words,  or,  if  possible  *o  obtain  it,  to  forego  the  sight  of  the  great 
ojcct  of  its  patriotic  worship.  Besides,  she  had  a  right  to  know 


1111.     I  M  I'K1  >\  \  I  •"  \  1  KI<    I  . 

;m,l  to  •  e.       Sin-  was  of  tin-  party,  and  had  done  them  wrvfoft       She 

.  i  t«.  do  them  more. 

:ded   in   an   adjoining   apartment  —a  -<>rt    of    oratory,  n.n- 

•1    by    a    -a'.lcry  \vilh    the   chamber    in   which    the    r.m-pira' 

mbled  dll  WM  able  to  licar  tin-  earnest  arguments 
anil  passionate  remonstrances  of  tin-  Liberator.  They  confirm.  d 
nil  her  previous  a.liuirati.'ii  of  his  ::,-:iius  and  character.  She 
l\-!t  with  indignation  the  humiliatinir  position  which  the  men  of 

•:l    lu-M    in    hi.  -he    heard     their    plca>    an<l    BCTUp 

and    li-tened    with    a    hitter   >c«.ni    to    the    thousand    n  <>f 

prudence,    the    tli.'ii-aiul    c-alculati(»ns    of   doul.t    and    caution,     with 
which   limit,  ity    rcek^   to   avoid    prccipitatin.i:   a   erivj,.      She   could 
listen  and  endure  no  longer.     The  spirit    of  the   impr-.- 
upon    her.       Wa<    it    aNo    that    of    fate   and    a    lii-lu-r    Provid.  i: 
She   s,  .j/,.,1   the   iruitar.   of   which   -In-  was  the  perfect    mistress,  and 
.-^  ]„  r   x,,iil   couiist.l]cd  ami  thccxiLTency  «.f    tlie  event  de 
manded.     Our  translation  of  her  lyrical  overllow  i.x  neces>aiily  a  • 
and  f. 

I  a  .In  am  ••!    liv.  -Imn, 
.\  in««rki!iy  'Irram.  tluni^h  bright, 
Tliat  -Ix.w.-.l  tin-  men  ;.|   lio^ota 

All  arminsr  1«T  the  ti-lit; 
All  ea^-.-r  ti-r  the  Imur  I  hat  wakes 
The  thilli'i.  ming  war. 

i  rushing  t..rth.  with  ^littt-riuj.'  .-!• 
•  •in  tin-  bamls  ..1  |{..li\  ai  . 

uI.  I  saj.l.  it  eami.'t  !«• 
That  H..  --la  -h.ill  1-e  .li-nii  -1 
II.  r   \i  i-ni.n.li  t...«      IM  i-  .  liief 

T<«  pluek  her  lioimr  ii|.  am!  |>ri<le; 
The  \vil.l  l.lanei-..  t...ast-  hi-  Li. 

That.  -Tuny  \*  ith  |.atn«-t  wrath  an-1  shame, 
Uiishe.l  ie.ll\  to  the  realm 
An-1  rOM  thn.uifli  l>l  .....  1  ami  «l«-atli.  |..  : 


_-la<l  mill--  ear  \\  ith  "thei- 
(  it  In  em.  n  wi.rtliy  these  that  tell  '. 


An«l  t»r  her  III.|H-  ami  triiiin|>h  f« 
Ami  that  \..UK  her,.,  well  )x-l,.\  • 

!..t.  still  a  nam< 
Marin".  Tiar.  .1. 

Hut.  for  the  lut  long. 


42  mwAun  no! 


Oh  !  (•'•ill'!  we  -tir  with  other  name-. 

The  mlil.  deaf  licarts  that  ln-ar  us  now, 
How  would  it  briiiK  a  thousand  shames, 

In  tire,  t<.  i  ach  IJo-ri,  tan's  brow  : 
HIIW  i-lap  in  pride  (irenada's  hands, 

II'  •  .a's  heart, 

And  how,  thi-oii  na's  lands. 

A  tlioii.-and  chief.--  and  hen  e-  -tart. 

Sodeim,  I'ac/,  lo  I  they  rush, 

Kadi  with  his  wild  ami  n.ssark  rout 
A  inoiiieiit  1'eels  the  t'eai'l'iil  hush, 

A  moment  hears  the  fearful  shout! 
They  he.-d  no  laek  of  arts  and  arms, 

Hut  all  their  miintry's  perils  leel. 
And.  sworn  tor  freedom,  bravely  lireak. 

The  -litterin-  l<  '    .-tile. 

the  gallant   Ifo.xas  elusp 
The  towerin.tr  banner  of  liei-  sway  ; 

And  Monajras.  with  fearful  jrra.-p. 

Plucks  down  the  chief  that  stops  the  way 

The  reotteSB  I'rdanet.i  ri  . 

Where  ri\e>  the  earth  tlie  iron  hail; 

Nor  lonx"  the  Spani-h  (.-email  !•: 

Tin-  strokes  ot  <  id  ZarazaVi  Hail  ! 

Oh.  generous  l-.eroe-,  li.iw  ye  i  : 
H««w  ^low  \oui-  states  with  equai 

'Tis  there  Valencia'^  banner  flies, 
And  there  rmiia- 

Then-,  on  each  hand,  from  east  to  west, 
From  i  M-omx.k  \»  Panama, 
,  ]»ro\  ince  l,ar<>  its  nolile  b,. 


At   the    first    sudden    LMI-II   of    tin-    music  from  witliin.  the  fallicr 
of  the  damsel   started   to   hi-   feel.  and.  with  confusion  in  hi*  eoun 
tcnaiire,    \v:i<   aliout    to   leave   th--   apartment.       But    Bolivar  anvsted 
his    t'oot-ie]»-.  and  in  a  \\hi-j.er   commanded    him    to  be    silen! 
remain.        Tin-    euii-piratoix     v|artled     if    imt     alarmed,    were    « 
pelled    to    li-ten.       Bolivar   did    so    with    a    pleaded    attention.        He 
was    passionately    fond    of    music,    and    thi 

.p|n-:il     to    hi-    objects    and    hi  .indhd    CU 

Hi-     heart     msr    \\ith    an    f.xultin.ir    seiiti;: 

The-  moment,   Indeed,  <  •'>•-!   triumphs  - 

the   tribute   of   u   i>ure,    uu.-'phiMiraU-d    soul,    inspired    l>\    II- 


BOLI  YAK'S    A  PITA!.. 


with    the    luii--  liL'heM    -  rth     with 

noblest    sentiments   of    pride   and    country.       When    tin-    mu-ic 
ccast  i;lin>   imt 

i  alTcctioi  his  uttera' 

Indc.-d    why   should   you   fear  .       I 

ani   in   t!,  f»r  anv  ;    and 

1     would   as  soon    place   my    life    in    the   keepinir    of   that    noble 

tlie    arm-    of    my    mother.       Let     hu-    remain,     my 

id    ne    all  :    ami   above,   do   not   attempt    to 

She  i-   my  ally.      Would   th;.>    -he  e,.uld  i 

•.  ith   her-.  If  —  fe«  1    M    ihfl    make-    even 

tved    a   new   impul<c   from 
that    of   the    improvi-atricc.       II«-    renewed    his    arguments   and 

i    a    different    spirit.       He    denounced.    in    yet    holder   lan- 

.    that    wretched     pusillanimity    which,    quite    as 

much,    h  :     as    the    Uranny     of     the     Spaniard,    was    the 

which     the     IT  M,,.    country     irroaned    and 

1    DOW,    I   ask."    he   continue^!  vly.    "men    OJ 

•-ally    jitirp.-e    to    d.  ny     y.>ur<elves    :111    -hare    in    the 
rfl    of  the   effort   which   is  for  your  own  emancipation. 
:hc    other    pro-  maintain    the    con- 

in   your  l.eh.-df.    while,   with    folded    hand-,   you   <ul»mit.  d 
\Vill    you    m  it     lift     the    banner   1 
Will  -rd    in    your   own    hnnor.    and    the  del", 

•id    families?      Talk   not    to   m«-  oi  :itri- 

Imtion-.       li    j<    \,,iir    manhood,    not    your    money,    t1  dful 

:     withhoM    yr«|]  bflfl     JOO    pro- 

f«.r  which    otli,  r    men   arc   f' 

all  -  manhood,     money,     h  •  thin-     but     h- 

!om.       But     \\]  •'     []      • 

'he    iiK-vitable    child    of   life,  natural  to 
all    . 

which    never   Lro<-  ll,:,t     :idv(  nture    which 

.     incur    no    more  peril  in  op 

•is    one    man.    than 

tmj-  hi^  footstool,  ami  trembling  for  ever 

iy    ju,  it  enclaves.      Be  you    but 


-"I  TIIU  Ai;i>     IK)  ! 

true     i«.     yourselves  — openly     true  — and     the     dan-er     disij.; 

the  ni.irlit mists  th;it  speed  from  In-fore  the  rUinu  sun.  'I 
is  little  that  docrvcs  the  name  of  peril  in  the  NMIC  \vhieii  lies 
before  u.s.  \Ve  are  more  than  a  match —  united,  and  filled  with 
the  proper  spirit  — for  all  the  forces  that  Spain  can  send  against 
Uv-  I'  i^  in  <>ur  coldne- ;  that  she  warms  — in  our  want  of  unity 
that  she  tnsds  .strength.  Imt  even  were  we  not  superior  to  her 
in  numbcrs--evrii  wfeTC  the  chances  all  wholly  and  decidedly 

InSl  US-—]  still  can  not  see  how  it  is  that  you  hesitate  to 
draw  the  sword  in  so  aacred  a  Strife— a  strife  which  coii-eerates 
the  eiTort,  ami  claim*  Heavcn'fl  -auction  for  A  iv  vur 

souls  so  sulidued  by  servitude,  are  you  BO  ace'iMoined  to  bonds 
and  tortures  that  these  no  longer  irk  and  vex  your  daily  con- 
8Ciousness?  Aiv  yog  BO  wedded  to  inaction  that  you  cease  to 
fed?  Is  it  the  frequency  of  the  punishment  that  has  made  you 
callous  to  the  ignominy  and  the  pain?  Certainly,  your  viceroy 
gives  you  frequent  occasion  to  irrow  reconciled  to  any  decree  of 
hurt  and  degradation.  Daily  you  behold,  and  I  hear,  of  the 
exactions  of  this  tyrant— of  the  cruelties  and  the  murders  to 
which  he  accustoms  you  in  Koirota.  Hundreds  of  your  frl, 
and  kinsmen,  even  now,  lie  rotting  in  the  common  prisons,  de 
nied  c<|ually  your  sympathies  and  every  show  of  justice,  perish- 
in.ir  daily  under  the  most  cruel  privations.  Hundreds  liave  per 
ished  by  this  and  other  modes  of  torture,  and  the  Callows  arid 
garote  Seem  never  to  be  unoccupied.  Was  it  not  the  hlea'-hmi: 
skeleton  of  the  veiierabl"  Hermano.  wln.ni  1  well  knew  tor  his 
wisdom  and  patriotism,  which  I  beheld,  even  ai  I  eniercd.  han.ir- 
in.ir  in  chains  over  the  gateway  of  your  city?  Was  lie  not  the 
victim  of  his  wealth  and  love  of  country?  Who  amonir  you  is 

'•  .'     He   dared    but    to   d. •liver   himself   as   M    man  — and,  as  he 
-iitl'ered    to    st.-md    alone,    lie    ^;r    destroyed.      Had   you,   when 

i-okc.    but    prr])ared   yourselves    to.  act.    tlunir   out     the    banner 
of    i'  to    Ih"    winds,    and     bared    the    sword    for   the    la-t 

noble    simple.    Hermano  had    not    perished,   nor   were   the   -lot- 
work   only  now  to  be  heLrun.      Hut    which  of  you,   involved   in   the 

peril   with    Hermano.    will    find  the   friend,   in   the  momcm 
his    need,   to   take   the   first    step   for   hi  .'       h    of   y.-u,   in 

turn,    having    wealth    to    tempt    tin-    spoil,  r,    will    lie   sure    to    D 
such    friendship.       It    seems    you   do   not    look    for  it    amoi:--   one 


then,  do  you  !<• 

for    it    amonLT    the    ('artaireiiians  — anioiii:   the    other    province —  to 
Boll  .  ,-tation.    if  you   &W   unwilling  t.. 

anything   for  your-elf    iriffn'n  .'      In    a   tyrai.. 

;  iini-t  momentarily  trem!>l-  iiler 

of    your    de-pot.      True    manhood    rather   pp 
i  which  puts  an  cud   t.)  t! 

tremble   wilh   appi'  It    i-  a  life 

•i.-alli    only  which  yc    live— and   any   death  or  peril  that  < 
'\ly  at   tin'  Minuncii-.  i-   to  he  preferred   l.efoiv  ii.       If.  tin •: 
I.  or   Impe^  to  warm   ye  — a   pride  to  xi-iiVr 
an  ainhition  that  lon.irs  for  IK-MIT  tlii; 
affe<  wliich    to  covet   life,   or   the   oOOlBgQ   with   which   to 

rt   and  defenil  your  affections      ye  cannot,  ye   will   not    bed 
to  determine,   \\iih   sou;  men,    upon    what    i-  im-dful   1o    IM- 

done.      Ye   have  hut  Ott  M  ;  and  th-  A  iii.  h   i^ 

..r  \.    :..  iliat  which  detennii 

\.n  \oiir  li\(-,  luit   viiuply  your  rank  and  Mature  in   the  world 
of  humanity  and  man. " 

paU86d,    n"t    BO    much    through    hi^    own    or   the 
(  \haJi-ti.iii    <>f    the    -ulijict.    a^    that    hi  -hould   ill    till; 

heard.       Uul.    willi    thi<    laMi-r    ol.j.ct.    hi-    PorbeanUM 

were     thOI  them,    indeed,    who    hail     : 

r    to 
proiniM-     l)o!di\     f«-r    their    j>  Their    pr 

(4e,    hut    were    conlined    to   uiiiiieanin.ir    ; 

eralities.        "  Now     i-     the     time  n  IpOM 

to    all    tli:e  i.       Hut    they   faltered  and    h 

his    spa-modieally  uttered    "  uow  !    n«>\ 
II,          aimed     their  ith     a     li-.j--     that     Lrradually 

vieidi-d  to   despond 

pr.  Hive,     a-    their     aii-wers     had     been      n, 

jal     of     ti.  '.;iiet     <iti/ 

toint-il    to   ;in\                        J  lint    tlioM-   of   trad' 

to    |M-ril    wealth    1>\  •      \\itli     'heir                               i 

felt     the     truM:  at      their 

trea-iiiv-   \\ ,  r,    only  00  1  •   the   cupidity 

the    royal  .    hut    they    still    relied    on    their 


46  SOUTHWARD   HO  ! 

habitual   caution   and   docility  to    keep   terms   with   the  tyranny  at 
which  they  yet  trembled.       When,  in  the  warmth  of  his  enihu- 
Bolivar    depicted   the   bloody  struggles   which   must  iheir 

deliverance,  they  began,  indeed,  to  wonder  among  themselves  how 
they  ever  came  to  fall  into  that  mischievous  philosophy  of  patriotism 
which  had  involved  them  with  such  a  r. 

Others  of  the  company  were  ancient   hidalgos,  who  had  been   men 
of  spirit  in  their  day,  but  who  had  survived  the  season  of  enter, <: 
which  is  that  period  only  when  the   heart   swells  and  overllows  with 
full  tides  of  warm  and  impetuous  blood. 

"Your  error,"  said  he,  in  a  \vhi<pcr  to  Senm-  Don  Joachim  de 
Zalabariata,  "  was  in  not  bringing  young  men  into  your  coun- 

"Wc    shall    have   them    hereafter."    was    the    replv.    also   in   a 
whisper. 

"We  shall  see,"  muttered  the  Liberator,  who  continued,  though 
in  silence,  to  scan  the  assembly  with   inquisitive  eyes,   and  excite 
ment  of  soul,  which   increased  duly   with  his  eH'orts  to  subdue  it. 
He  had  found  some  allies  in  the  circle  —  some  few  geiiero'. 
who.   responding  to  his  de-ire-.  \v.  iv  anxious  to  lie  up  and  doing. 
But   it  was  only  too  apparent  that   the  main    body  of   the  company 
had    been    rather   disquieted    than    warmed.       In    this   condition    of 
hopeless  and  speechless   indecision,   the   emotions  of   the    Liberator 
became  scarcely   controllable.      His  whole   frame  trembled  with  the 
anxiety  and  indignation  of  his  spirit.      He  paced  the  room  hurriedly. 
passing  from  group  to  group,  appealing  to  individuals  now.  \\heiv 
hitherto  he  had  spoken   collectively,   and   suggesting  detailed   argu 
ments  in    behalf  of  hopes  and  objects,  which   it  does  not    need  that 
We    should    incorporate    with    our    narrative.      But    when    he    found 
how   feeble  was  the  inllueiice  which  he  exercised,  and  how  cold 
the  echo  to   Ids  appeal,  he  became  impatient,  and  no   longer  stn>\ . 
modify   the  c\pre->.ion  of  that  scorn  and   indignation  which   he  had 
for  some   time   felt.      The  explosion   followed    in   no   measured   Ian 
guage. 

"Men  of  Bogota,   you  are  not    worthy  to  he   free.      Your  chains 
are   merited.        You    deserve   your    in^  curilies.    and    may    embrace, 

ven    a^    \e    pleaxr.     the    fates    which     lie    before     \  oil.        Acqii; 
in   the  tyranny    which   offends    no    longer,    but    be  sure   that    acqui- 


47 

his  rapacity 

•  !rtim.     Your  live-  Rll  ;  which  ye  dare  not 

peril   in   tlu'   cause  of  freedom —  lie  equally  at  his  mercy.     HP 
will  imt  j  ••  them  at  his  plea.-ure.     To  save 

them  from  him  there  is  hut  one  way —  to  employ  them  against 
him.     Tl  hut  in  power;   and  to 

-trength  you  must  oppose  to  it 

Own,     This  ye  h;ive  no;  M>ul  to  d(»,  and  I  Lave  you  to  the, 
pOU  have  chosen.     This  day,  tliis  night,  it  was  yours  to 
I  have  penllp.!    all  to  move  you  to  the  proper  resolu 
tion.     You  have  denied  inp,  and  1  leave  you.     To-morrow  —  tin- 
indeed  I  am   betnived  to-night"  —  looking  with  a  sarcastic 
smile  around  him  as  he  spoke  —  "I  shall  unfurl  the  banner  of 
the  republic  even  within  your  own  province,  in  behalf  of  Bogota, 
and  seek,  even   against  your  own  desires,  to  bestow  upon  yo;: 
tho>e  hh->sings  of  liberty  which  ye  have  not  the  soul  to  conquer 
1  ves." 

<H  A  PTER    II. 

II  AUDLV  had  these  words  been  spoken,  when  the  guitar  again 

t'roin  within.      Kvery  ear  was    instantly   hu-hed   a 

••ended  —  a    >train,  more   ambitious  than  the  preceding, 

of  melancholy  and   indignant   apostrophe.     The  bnprowisatriea 

:io   longer  able  to  control  the  p.\--i.-i!a{e  inspiration  which 

from    the    stern   eloquence    of  the    Liberator. 
;iit  from  him  the  burning  sentiment  of  scorn  which  it  was  no 
press,  and    gave  it  additional    etVect  in  th« 

poll-  .-in  <.f  her  song.     Our  translation  will   poorly  suf- 

proper  notion  of  the  strain. 

NVIn-n  miirilioo.i's  goul  had  broken  every  ch*i«, 
«cHrc*>  a  1  fa  ye  fr»«, 

KOI  vi. -h  .-Mii.iitin.-i  ;iu»r.-d  loii^  in  vain; 
nay  w<-  worp  the  fortiineg  of  our  land, 
Tliougli  woman's  teai-  r  knuwn  to  take 

•    link  away  from  tlint  opprrggivr  hand 

ID  hri-ak  ! 

Oh  '  there  \W«T"  h.-niti.  of  misfit  in  other  dayi, 
Brmv>  i     •       •  v  ttill  i«  dear  to 

Ala*  for.  oui .  mite 

.  <-k« 


4fl  SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 

/U  from  the  midnight  gloom  the  wenry  eyr. 

With  sense  that  can  ruit  the  bright  dawii  tor£ 
Looks  sadly  hopeless,  from  the  vacant  sky, 

To  that  where  late  the  glorious  day-slur  sot ! 

Yet  all's  not  midnight  dark  if,  in  your  land, 

There  be  some  gallant  hearts  to  bntve  the 
One  single  generous  blow  from  Freedom'*  hand 

M;i\  speak  again  our  sunniest  hopes  to  life; 
If  hut  one  blessed  drop  in  living  veins 

Be  worthy  those  who  teach  us  from  the  dead 
Vengeance  and  weapons  both  are  in  your  chain*, 

Hurled  fearlessly  upon  your  despot's  head  ! 

Vet,  if  no  memory  of  the  living  post 

Can  wake  ve  now  to  brave  the  indignant  strife, 
'Tweie  nothing  wise,  at  least,  that  we  should  last 

When  de.-.th  itself  might  wear  a  look  of  life' 
Ay,  when  the  oppressive  arm  is  lifted  high, 

And  scourge  and  torture  still  conduct  to  graves 
To  strike,  though  hopeless  •till  —  to  strike  and  di« 

They  live  not,  worthy  freedom,  who  are  slave*1 

As  the  song  proceeded,  Bolivar  stood  forward  ^  one  i*.A  in 
ecstacy.  The  exultation  brightened  in  his  eye,  &ml  his  manner 
was  tli.it  of  ,1  soul  in  the  realization  of  its  highest  triumph.  Not 
so  the  Bogotans  by  whom  he  was  surrounded.  They  felt  the 
terrible  sarcasm  which  the  damsel's  song  conveyed  —  a  sarcasm 
immortalized  to  all  the  future,  in  the  undying  depths  of  a  song 
to  be  remembered.  They  felt  the  humiliation  of  such  a  record, 
and  hung  their  heads  in  shame.  At  the  close  of  the  ballad, 
Bolivar  exclaimed  to  Joachim  de  Zalabarietta,  the  father:  — 

"  Bring  the  child  before  us.  She  is  worthy  to  be  a  prime  min 
ister.  A  prime  minister?  No!  the  hero  of  the  forlorn  hope!  a 
spirit  to  raise  a  fallen  standard  from  the  dust,  and  to  tear  down 
nnd  trample,  that  of  the  enemy.  Bring  her  forth,  Joachim.  Had 
your  men  of  Bogota  but  a  tithe  of  a  heart  so  precious !  Nay, 
could  her  heart  be  divided  among  them  —  it  might  serve  a  thou 
sand —  there  were  no  viceroy  of  Spain  within  your  city  now  !" 

And  when  tlic  father  brought  her  forth  from  the  little  cabinet, 
that  girl,  flashing  with  inspiration  —  pale  and  red  by  turns — 
slightly  made,  but  graceful  —  very  lovely  to  look  upon  — 
wrapped  in  loose  white  garments,  with  her  long  hair,  dark  and 
flowing  unconfined,  and  so  long  that  it  was  easy  for  her  to 


THE    PROMISE.  49 

'••       l!         'miration  of  the  Liberator  WU  insnppres- 

••  Bless   you    for   ever,"   IIP   cried,  "my  fnir  Princess  of  Free 

V.IH.  at   lea-t,  have  a  froo  soul,  and  ««no  tliat  is  certainly 

inspired  l>y  the  ureat  divinity  of  earth.     Yon  -l-all  he  mine  ally, 

•  "ther   MI    all  -'if:i";pntly  courajr1 

In  yon,  niv  child.  i»i   yon    ami    yours,   there   is   still  a  redeeming 
spirit  whi'.'h  r-l-all  save  your  city  nttorlv  from  shame!'' 

<[>ol<p,  thp    pmotions   of  flip,   niai'lou  wprp  of  n  sort 

•    •        bow  how  pasilv  -lip    should    lie    (juickpncd   with   tlie 

::tr.     rriiP  color  came  ami  wpnt  upon  her 

The   tears  rosp,   bi^   and   l»ri«rlit,  upon   her 

(.V(»!;ixlir>  —  h(\'ivy  ilmps.  inca]»ahlo.   of  siijipn's^iuu,  that  .swelled 
nno    after  thp   other,  trembled    and    fell,  while   the   liirht  blazed, 
PVPM    more    hriirhtly   from    thp   showprs  in  tin1  dark  ami  dilating 
wliirli    ha:l'ored    such    capacious    fountains.      She   had    no 
hut.  treinMin^  like  a  leaf,  sink  upon  a  cushion  af 
f  her  father,  as  Holivnr,  with  a  kiss  upon  her  forehead, 
'•er  from   his    clasp.      Her   courage    came   hack  to  her  a 
liter.      S!;e  was  a  thinir  of  impulse,  whose   movements 
jit  and  unexpected  as  the  inspiration  hy  which  >he 
D   livar  had  scarcely  turned  from  her,  a*  if  to  relieve  her 
rbeu  >ln'  re,-..vereil  all  her  strength  and  cou.'a^*-.     Sud 
denly  risini:  from  th(>  ctisliinn,  she  sei/ed  the  hand  of  her  father, 
find  with  nn  action  equally  passionate  and  dignified,  the  ltd  him 
I-    the    Liherator,  to  whom,  speaking    for    the    first   time    in    that 

'-he  thus  addressed  her>elf:  — 

"  //'    ifl   yours  —  he    has   al\\;iy.-    l.eeu    icady  with  his  life  and 
"  \r  me.  f..r  I  know  it.     Nay  more  !    douht  not  that 
hundreds  in   Bogota  —  though  they  he  not  here — u  ho. 
like    him.  xvill    !•••    ready  whenevrr   they   hear    the    summon 

tiunipi-f.      N    ;     -AJll    the    \\oinen    <>;  wanting. 

.1  he  many  of  them  who  will  tak-  ipODBoftl 

them  not.  and    do    as    hravi-  'iintry  &a 

•.vheii    they    slew    four    hundred 
.ianls."t 

'  Thi,  i.-rrihli-  »ljui^:          •  m    tin-    night  «>f  tht-   IGtli  of  June,  1816 

^ 


!)®  i  i I \VAiI I>    HO! 

"All!  I  remember'  A  most  glorious  achievement,  and  wm- 
thy  to  be  written  in  letters  of  gold.  It  was  at  Morapox,  where 
they  rose  upon  the  garrNnn  of  Mnrillo.  Girl,  you  are  worthy  to 
Lave  been  the  chief  of  those  women  of  Magdalen*.  You  will 
be  chief  yet  of  the  women  of  Bogota.  I  take  your  assurance 
with  regard  to  them ;  but,  for  the  men,  it  were  better  that  tliou 
peril  nothing  even  in  thy  speech." 

The  last  sarcasm  of  the  Liberator  might  have  been  spam! 
That  which  his  eloquence  had  failed  to  eflect.  was  suddenly  ac 
complished  by  this  child  of  beauty.  Her  inspiration  and  presence 
were  electrical.  The  old  forgot  their  car.: Jon  and  their  years 
The  young,  who  needed  but  a  leader,  had  suddenly  found  a 
genius.  There  was  now  no  lack  of  the  necessary  enthusiasm. 
There  were  no  more  scruples.  Hesitation  yielded  to  res 
The  required  pledges  were  given  —  given  more  abundantly  than 
required;  and,  raising  the  slight  form  of  the  damsel  to  his  <>\\r. 
height,  Bolivar  again  pressed  his  lips  upon  her  forehead,  gazing 
at  her  with  ,t  respectful  delight,  \vhile  he  bestowed  upon  her  the 
name  of  the  Guardian  Angel  of  Bogota.  With  a  heart  bound 
ing  and  beating  with  the  most  enthusiastic  emotions  —  too  full 
for  further  utterance  —  La  Pola  disappeared  from  that  imposing 
presence  which  her  coming  had  filled  with  a  new  life  raid 
impulse, 

CHAPTER    111. 

IT  was  nearly  dawn  when  the  Liberator  left  the  city.     That 
night  the  bleaching  skeleton  of  the  venerable  patriot  II.-.: 
was  taken  down  from  the  gibbet  where  it  had  hung  so 
hands  that  left  the  revolutionary  banner  waving  pron 
place.     This  was  an  event  to  startle  the  viceroy.     It  was  fol 
lowed  by  other  events.     In  a  few  days  more,  and  the  sounds  of 

lifnl  city  on  mi  island  ii  the  river  Mugdaleno.     The  event  ha*  m.ikti -.1   il.<- 
muse  of  many  a  native  patriot  and  poet,  who  grew  wild  when  they  i> 
courage  of 

41  Thote  damos  of  Magdalena, 
Who,  in  oiif»  fenrful  night, 
Slew  full  four  hundred  tyranta, 

Nor  shrunk  from  hlood  in  fright." 

Such  women  deserve  the  ;ipotjtnj|>i.-  :ii  to  ins  wife:  — 

1  Bring  forth  men  childn  n  only." 


PR"  \R.  .",1 

heard  throughout  (]1(.  j  c]ty  still 

the   standard   of  rebellion,  while   Za- 
.<>d   in   p.. 

;ivar  him- 

und.-r  t!..  ur.v.-illin^  that  tho  patriots 

•  ma-k.      Thv  M-liM,it    t  ]j0w. 

to  the 
tor,  and  it 

3.     Tin-   I'.-.-oIe  in  conflict  proved  t! 
,u;il    t<.»    their  rulei-       T        Sj     ::iards  liad  IMH-II  lit 

U-.M-O   they   prudent    now    when  the 
c  •ni:  them   weak.     Still,   the    succt^ 

Id  from  which  it  was  not  e;; 

ITC68,  in  arms  and  i. 
I  ith  which   the   repnhli- 
i-  to  contend.     But  thev  di«! 

as  the  great  guarantee 

t   the  Ooloml  i  !s  of 

than  Mij»plied  by  their  --d  patriot 

'liing  their  di 
•  all.  except  their  enemies,  that  the  issue  was  certainly 

-t   the  war  had  he.- 
rhaps,  see  but  little   change  i,,  the  n 

d  to 

iinld  wherever   the    risings  of  t]i;  had 

•;  :;ner 

huurly  u  ;  diminntion,  and    ;  |    lessenii'. 

:ary 

in   the    b  tho 

furtl,  of  the  v 

ra"}  md   their  in- 

.  I  ap 
ons,  not  a  little  contril.  I^ll( 

II-.w,  in  all  ;• 


52  SOUTHWARD  HO  I 

adhered    to    the  enthusiastic    faith   which  she  had  voluntarily 
pledged  to  him  in  behalf  of  herself  and  people? 

Now,  it  may  be  supposed  that  a  woman's  promise,  to  partici 
pate  in  the  business  of  an  insurrection,  is  not  the  thing  upon 
which  much  stress  is  to  be  laid.  VVe  are  apt  to  assume  for  the 
sex  a  too  humble  capacity  for  high  performances,  and  a  too 
small  sympathy  with  the  interests  and  affairs  of  public  life.  In 
both  rc>perts  we  are  mistaken.  A  proper  education  for  the  sr.x 
would  result  in  showing  their  ability  to  share  with  man  in  all 
hU  t«-ils,  and  to  sympathize  with  him  in  all  the  legitimate  con 
cerns  of  manhood.  But  what,  demands  the  caviller,  can  be  ex 
pected  of  a  child  of  fifteen?  and  should  her  promises  be  held 
against  her  for  rigid  fulfilment  and  performance?  It  might  be 
enough  to  answer  that  we  are  writing  a  sober  history.  There  is 
the  record.  The  fact  is  as  we  give  it.  But  a  girl  of  fifteen,  in 
the  warm  latitude  of  South  America,  is  quite  as  mature  as  the 
northern  maiden  of  twenty-five  ;  with  an  ardor  in  her  nature 
that  seems  to  wing  the  operations  of  the  mind,  making  that  intu- 
iti\e  with  her,  which,  in  the  person  of  a  colder  climate,  is  the 
result  only  of  long  calculation  and  deliberate  thought.  She  is 
sometimes  a  mother  at  twelve,  and,  as  in  the  case  of  La  Pola,  a 
heroine  at  fifteen.  We  freely  admit  that  Bolivar,  though  greatly 
interested  in  the  improvvisatrice,  was  chiefly  grateful  to  her  for 
the  timely  rebuke  which  she  administered,  through  her  peculiar 
faculty  of  lyric  song,  to  the  unpatriotic  inactivity  of  her  country 
men.  As  a  matter  of  course,  he  might  still  expect  that  the 
same  muse  would  take  fire  under  similar  provocation  hereafter. 
But  he  certainly  never  calculated  on  other  and  more  decided 
services  at  her  hands.  He  misunderstood  the  being  whom  he 
UK  what  contributed  to  inspire.  He  did  not  appreciate 
her  ambition,  or  comprehend  he  resources.  From  the  moment 
of  hi*  meeting  with  her  she  became  a  woman.  She  was  already 
a  politician  as  she  was  a  poet.  Intrigue  is  natural  to  the  genius 
of  the  sex.  and  the  faculty  is  enlivened  by  the  possession  of  a 
warm  imagination.  La  Pola  put  all  her  faculties  in  requisition. 
•A-  addressed  to  the  achievement  of  some  plan  of 
co-operation  with  the  republican  chief,  and  she  succeeded,  where 
wiser  persons  must  have  failed,  in  compassing  the  desirable 
facilities. 


POLP  :!!!•    [MPBOVriBATl  53 

Living   in  P.og..ta — tin-    stronghold  of  tin'  enemy — she  r 

icion,     Her  fatlicr 

and    hih    famM  .  .••!    and    shielded,  while    they 

main*1'!  under  the  pcr.vor  of  the  viceroy,  Xamano —  a  military  des- 

pot  who  liad   alreadv  acquired    a  reputation   f«r   cruelty  BCATColy 

inferior  to  tliat  of  the  worst  of  the  Roman  emperors  in  the  latter 

day>  ..f  tlie   empire.      The  wealth   of  her   father,  partly   known, 

him  a  desirahle  victim.      Her  heauty,  her  spirit,  the  charm 

of  her  song  and   comv;  BXercifled,  as  well   to  secure 

for   him,  as  to  procure    the    needed    intelligence  and    ; 

f  .r  the  Liherator.      She   managed  the  twofold  oljert  with 

admiralde  success  —  disarming  suspicion,  and,  under  cover  oi'  the, 

B  which   she  inspired,  succeeding  in  effecting  constant 

communication   with   the  patriots,  hy  wh'n  !i    she   put   into   their 

.1  all  the  pivo  <  !    the  Spaniards.      Her  i.t  and 

heauty  w«'ie  the  d      I  f  her  Miccess.      SL-  '.  her 

.  mate    and    intt-n.-e    nature — -her    wild    inipulx-    and    e 

•  — employing  them  only  to  impart  to  he:  e  ini- 

ive  and  sj.iri-  3  'lied   her  genius  in  the 

Ion,  sporting  ahovo  the  precipice  of  feel- 

and  making  of  it  a  background  and  a  relief  to  the 

charm  of  her   seemingly  wilful   fancy.      Sor,£  came  at    her  sum 
mons,  and  disarmed    the  se.                                                                  :    her 
country '>    enemies    >he  \\asonly   iln-    i:;.;                    ice  —  a  rarely 
gifted  creature,  living  in  the  clouds,  and  total!'. 
th:n_                                   ••••uld  thu>  heirnile  from  the  youi  . 
of  the  Spanish  army,  without  provoking  the  slightest  apprehen 
sion  ret    plan    and    purposi the 

•  mplateii  enterprise  —  in  -hort,  a  tlion- 

ihings  which,  as  an  in>j»ir«-il   idiot,  might  be  }  -  her  with 

indit'  .  Inch,  in  :  know,  v, 

•  itli  the  most  jealous  \igilai.  the  prin- 

"f  tip-  tertulia  —  that  n  ruing  entert.iinment  BO 

moil,  yet    ><•    j.n-i  i  -j-anianls.      At    the 

witli  a  gia.-e  and  intluence  v.  hieli  n 

•her  a  p!  Qernl  retort    Tin- 

tnr  .  and 

;ing  ahxay-.  to  the  delightful   .-piritn- 

i.-ii    hei 


04  no ! 

ice  than  of  ;  'th  all  her  charms,  -ind 

of  aiming  at    no  treachery  more  dangerous  than  that  of  making 
conquests,  sii    |  rride  them.      It  was  the  popular  ^ualilica- 

tion  of  all  her  beauties  .nipli.vhmenLs  that  B  co 

quette,  at   once  so  c-'hl,  and   so  insatiate.      Perhaps,  the  woman 
politician  never  so  thoroughly  conceals  her  game  as  when  she 
kfl  ii  with  t!ie  art  which  men  are  most  apt  to  describe  as.  tho 

'.•'11  of  the  M'.v. 

!ie.-e  aits,  La  1'ola  fulfilled   m  >st  amply  her  pled, 
the    liberator.     She    was,    indeed,    his    must    admiral .le    aliv    in 
came  thoroughly  conversant  with   all  the 

facts  in  the  condition  of  the  Spanish  army  —  i  _;h  of  the 

.al  armaments,  their  disposition  and  destination  —  the  oper 
ations  in  prospect,  and   the  opinion*  and  merits  of  the  oilicers — 
all  of  whom   she   knew,  ami   from  \.  h.-ih 
knowledge   OJ  .  th   and  value   of  their  absent   c- 

These   particulars,   all    regular!;.  itted    to   13olivar, 

quite  as   much   the  secret  of  \i\>  ,\s  his  own  genius  ami 

the  valor  of  his  troops.      The   constant    disappointment  and   de- 
"i"  the  royalist  amis,  in  the  operation  which  were  conduct 
ed  in  the  province  of  Bogota,  attested  the  closeness  and  correct- 
Jiowledge,  and  its  vast  importance  to  the  cause  of 
the  patriots 

rilAPTKU     IV. 

Unfortunately,  ho\\e\ •«•!%  one  of  her  communications  wa>   in 
tercepted,  and   the   cowardly   bearer,  intimidated   by  th. 
of  impending  death,  was  persuaded  to  betray  his  employer.      li:' 

.-ill  that  he  knew  of  her  practices,  and  one  «»f  his  state 
ments,  namely,  that   she   usually  drew  from  her  shoe   the   paper 
which    she   gave   him,  served   to  fix    conclusively  upon    her   the 
proofs  of  her  offence.      She  was  arrested   in  thi 
miring  throng,  presiding  with  her   usual  grace  at    the  tertnli. 
which    her   wit    and    music    furnished    the    eminent    attractions, 
cd    t  •    s-f,,mit,  ln-r   shoes  were    taken    from    her   feet    in  tho 

..f  the  crowd,  and  in  one  of  them,  between  tiie  .soh-  and 
the  )  .  !i.0',  was   a  '.^ned   I'or  Bolivar,  containing 

the  .:.-:ails,  in  anticipa;'.  16  of  the  intended  movemei:' 

tin    viccio\        g  i,  nor  did  she  sink  beneath 


DF!  ixjOM.  56 

rather  into  an  unusual 
-::o   encoura-ed    her  friends 

fining  indifference,  th«m<:h 

well  know  that  her  doom  was  certainly  at  hand.      She  had    her 

von  under  this  conviction.     Her  father  was  in  safety 

in  the   camp  of  H.ilivar.     With  her  counsel   and   assistance  he 

Avon!  [fl  property  from  the  wreck  of  confiscation. 

The  plot  had  ripened   in  her  hands  almost   to  maturity,  and,  be- 

iiM-If  would  speak  for  liherty  in  a  formi- 

dabb  !  -;ly  her  work!      What 

D6,  by   her  agency  and  influence,  may  be  readily 

ctured  from  wliat  has  boon  already  written.     Enough,  thai 

!f  felt   that  in  leaving  life  she  left  it  when  there  was 

little  more  left  f -r  her  to  do. 

I  .a  I '"la  WAI  hurried   fiom  the  tertulia  before  a  military  court 

--martial   law  then  prevailing  in   the  capital  —  with  a  rapidity 

j  with   the  suppo>ed   mnimity  of  her  oflfences.      It 

wa-  her  chief  pang  that   she  was  not  hurried   there  alone.      W.' 

!   that  she  h::-l  a  lover,  one  Juan  de 
mero,  to  whom  si,.  ' — a  worthy  and  noble 

y<>nth,  who  entertained   for  her  the  :  '»nate  attachment 

It  ict    that    she    kept    him  wholly  from 

any  km-  political  alliances;   and   never  was  man 

more   indignant   than   he  when   she  ted,  or  more  con 

founded  when  the  proofs  of  her  jjuilt  were  drawn  from  her   per- 

His   «. tlencr    ri>n-i>ted    in  his    : 
who  seixed  her.      'I 
that  he  knew  or  jiartieipatetl  at  all    in  her  intimacy  with  the  pa 

I  Holivar.      H  ed  al«»n^  with  her,  and  ' 

flemned  — !••:•  at    •  condemnation   and   trial  we. 

of  KVlioi:  .jioit — to  be  shot.      A  respite  of  tvvelvr   1. 

fro ii:  Mited  them  for  the  purposes  of  c 

:          '  ired  no  OK 

"M  revelation  ,if  all  the  our  hero: 

.ited   upon    h-  'mded  on   the 

11  •    lield    out    hue  : 

and   hereafter,  uj  f  a  full  d. 

of  1  -  Well  m'.^!:t    the  !  -]>le 

inlde  all  Hut     :  B  '  r   ro- 


56  SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 

fusal.  Neither  promises  of  present  mercy,  nor  threats  of  the 
future,  could  extort  from  her  a  single  fact  in  relation  to  her  pro 
ceedings.  Her  lover,  naturally  desirous  of  life,  particularly  in 
the  possession  of  so  much  to  make  it  precious,  joined  in  the  en 
treaties  of  the  priest ;  but  she  answered  him  with  a  inouru/ul 
severity  that  smote  him  like  a  sharp  weapon  — 

"Gomero!  did  I  love  you  for  this?  Beware,  lest  I  hate  you 
ere  I  die  !  Is  life  so  dear  to  you  that  you  would  dishonor  both 
of  us  to  live  1  Is  there  no  consolation  in  the  thought  that  we 
shall  die  together?" 

"  But  we  shall  be  spared — we  shall  be  saved,"  was  the  reply 
of  the  lover. 

"  Believe  it  not  —  it  is  false  !  Zamano  spares  none.  Our  lives 
are  forfeit,  and  all  that  we  could  say  would  be  unavailing  to 
avert  your  fate  or  mine.  Let  us  not  lessen  the  value  of  this 
sacrifice  on  the  altars  of  our  country,  by  any  unworthy  fears. 
If  you  have  ever  loved  me,  be  firm.  I  am  a  woman,  but  1  am 
strong.  Be  not  less  ready  for  the  death-shot  than  is  she  whom 
you  have  chosen  for  your  wife." 

Other  arts  were  employed  by  the  despot  for  the  attainment  of 
bis  desires.  Some  of  the  native  citizens  of  Bogota,  who  had 
been  content  to  become  the.  creatures  of  the  viceroy,  were  em 
ployed  to  work  upon  her  fears  and  affections,  by  alarming  her 
with  regard  to  persons  of  the  city  whom  she  greatly  esteemed 
and  valued,  and  whom  Zamano  suspected.  But  their  ende.- 
were  met  wholly  with  scorn.  When  they  entreated  her,  among 
other  things,  "to  give  peace  to  her  country,"  the  phrase  seemed 
to  awaken  all  her  indignation. 

"Peace!  peace  to  our  country!"  she  exclaimed.  "What 
peace  !  the  peace  of  death,  and  shame,  and  the  grave,  for  ever  !" 
And  her  soul  again  found  relief  only  in  its  wild  lyrical  overfl  >w 

What  peace  for  our  country,  when  ye've  made  her  a  jjnive, 
A  «lrii  for  the  tyninl,  a  cell  for  the  slave  ; 
A  pestilent  plague-cnot,  accnrsing  and  curst, 
At  vile  at  the  vilest,  and  worse  than  the  worst  ! 

The  chain  may  be  broken,  the  tyranny  o'er, 
But  the  sweet  channs  that  Messed  her  ye  may  not  restore; 
Not  your  blood,  though  poured  forth  from  life's  ruddiest  \  -in 
Shnll  free  her  fiom  9UffV*tt  "•'   '    '   >    -1'  '"•'   '"rom  utaju  ' 


vivi:  i  A    I-ATKIA.  67 


'Tia  the  pti<  f  tha1  •  r<  movi-  the 

That  brands  with  the  hlackriega  of  hell  all  your  ra 

:  row  that  nothinp  may  cleanse  ye  of  shame., 
Th:it  hi*  :o  madness,  :md  tilled  us  with  flame. 

\        •  mny  pa»s  hut  the  memory  'I-  ep  in  our  souls, 
Shall  make  tin-  tali-  darker  as  Time  onward  rolls; 
Ami  the  future  that  -rows  from  our  ruin  shall  know 
\vn,  nnd  its  country's,  and   liberty*!  for. 

And  still,  in  the  :  tl  altars  shall  rise, 

A['l>oal  fbi  tli.'  v.  n^.-aiicr  nf  earth  and  of  ikios  ; 
Mi'M   shall  j.ra\    that   : 
Ami  pltviil   for  the  curst.'  of  eti-rnity  too! 


^cful  in  spirit  thrir  ; 
:'  the  \\hoh-  world  fc-liidn  tl:i-m  to 
'Vhni  Jiopo  wotdd  there  he  for  mankind  if  our  rn^e, 
T:.n  u^:.  •  .-  ru'e  of  the  hrntnl,  is  robhed  by  tne 

•  :  hop--  for  the  !i;tn-t..  whi».  nope  for  the  frr« 
And  where  would  the  prorr.K.    of  li...  rty  oc, 
If  Time  had  no  terror,  no  doom  for  the  slave. 
Who  would  stab  his  own  nioth-  r,  and  shout  oVr  her  grave  ' 

a  response  as  this  effectually  silenced   rill  those  cunning 

f  the  viceroy  who  urged   their  arpnnents   in  behalf  of 

their  country.      N<>t1n:  -ecu,  could  he  done  with  a  spirit 

.so  inlh'xihle  ;   and  in   his  fury  Zaniano   ordered  the  coiijtlc   I'.rth 

to  instant  execution.      Ho^n.ta  w;is  in  ni«>nrning.      Its  jieoj.lc 

i    few  oidy  excej.te.l,  and    \ 
or  comforted.      The    priests  who   attended    the    victims   received 

•!;•  11  a-  concerned  the  F  the  j.atriots  ;    ami 

retired  in  chagrin,  and  without  uraut  in:-:  absolution  to  eithc: 
tini.      The  tiling  jiarty  made    rea<ly.      rl'!irn    it  VTA8,  lor   the  lir>t 
this  nohle  mai<!en   si-emed  to  shrink  from 
the  approach  of  death. 

lie   exclaimed    to  the   vicer  in  his 

'.••i,kiiig  tl.  >:"n       "  P.'it.  ' 

then  the  heart  t«»  kill  a  woman  !" 

'1'lievc  were  the  only  words  i.f  \\  raki-em.      Sin-  1  her 

ntlv,  and.    jirejiaiv  r   fate,  without    looking    for 

t  from  li.  . 

the  B,      I  M-awini:  ''  -i^i  •'•  for  the  pnr 

.  ;  v  !'//•<•  /-/    / 


58 

gold,  were  discovered  on  the  tmsnuina.  As  tlie  signal  fur  exe 
cution  was  given,  a  distant  hum,  as  of  the  clamors  of  an  ap 
proaching  army,  was  heard  fitfully  to  rise  upon  the  air. 

"  It  is  he  !  lie  comes  !  It  is  Bolivar  !  It  is  the  Liberator !" 
was  her  cry,  in  a  tone  of  hope  and  triumph,  which  found  its  echo 
in  the  bosom  of  hundreds  who  dared  not  give  their  hearts  a  voice. 
It  was,  indeed,  the  Liberator.  Bolivar  was  at  hand,  pressing 
onward  with  all  spred  to  the  work  of  deliverance;  but  he  came 
too  late  for  the  rescue  of  the  beautiful  and  gifted  damsel  to  whom 
lie  owed  so  much.  The  fatal  bullets  of  the  executioners  pene 
trated  her  heart  ere  the  cry  of  her  exultation  had  subsided  from 
the  ear.  Thus  perished  a  woman  worthy  to  be  remembered 
with  the  purest  and  proudest  who  have  done  honor  to  nature 
and  the  sex ;  me  who,  with  all  the  feelings  and  sensibilities  of 
the  woman,  possessed  all  the  pride  and  patriotism,  the  courage 
the  sagacity  and  the  daring  of  the  man. 


CHAPTER    V. 

"  \Vi>  ilid  ki-i-p  time,  sir,  in  our 


[  Tvrfftk 


.  the  contribution  of  our  fair 

ived  with  warmest  tlmnks  and  congratulations. 

had  ilelivrivd  herself  of  tlio  pleasant  lahoi.  as  if  there  lia<l  been 
ervice  —  unaffectedly,  with  equal  ease,  m 

nl   spirit.       Her   narrative   was   gr;.ivful,   while    lirr   lyrical 
tMitlnisiasin  wliicl:  (dated,  in 

BSt    delicacy    and    good   taste.      My  (Jotlianiit«» 
B    all  ill    raptures,  and    I  fancied   tlu  t    l;is    pr.-.' 

•  1  in  tl,e  •  lilSfl  Burroi: 

•    name  which  my  h>n£  intimacy  wit! 
.miliarly  —  was   younj;   enough   I'm-  I 

[iiite  tV.'     of  any  attachments  ;   and 
tin)'  'iet   to  figure    COnspicuOOflly  in   a   fashionable  jam 

•  nation  which    could   most   eiVectually 
banning  qualities*      My   friend    Duyrkman 

There    was    a    prohahility,    indeed  —  so    T 

•h  of  tin--  long,  would   he  inclined  to 

;..••!  -hall  desire  you  of 

!'>ssoni."      I  could 
.\vth  of  1!1  ilic  jiarties  with   great  coin- 

:•    in   the    firhl,  the 

Id    is  in  the    gradual   approach  "f  t\\ 
fond    lit-.    '  Lher—   they    thi-m-r!\  M,   j 

... 

ral     among    tl>0 

night    \\  ly.      It    was  BO   c. 

.  scihicti\-  Men.      T! 

the  .    none  of  us 


00  SOUTH  \V  A  III)    IIO! 

Kach.  with  a  fresh  sense  of  freedom,  was  free  also  from  all  sense 
of  physical  exhaustion.  Why  .-leep  /  There  were  liste 
and  each  unlocked  his  stores.  The  oyster  war  was  re-called, 
and  other  anecdotes  given.  Aj  we  .-\\ept  along  hy  the  shores 
of  New  Jei>i-y,  which  we  could  no  longer  see,  her  people,  char 
acter,  and  histoiy,  furnished  our  topics.  It  was  admitted  that 
i In-  ,J fix-vans  were  a  sterling  sort  of  people.  They  had 
shown  good  pluck  in  the  Revolution,  and  their  country  had 
furni.>died  the,  battle-fields  of  some  «,{'  our  most  glorious  actions 
—  Monmouth,  Princeton,  Trenton.  These  recalled  Washington 
and  hee,  and  Lafayette,  and  many  others.  It  was  admitted  that — 

';  The.  Jerseyan,  when  a  gentleman,  was  of  the  best  models; 
and  c\en  when  not  exactly  a  gentleman,  was  still  to  1 
nis.-d  as  a  good  fellow.  Without  being  the  swashing,  conceited 
Gothamite,  lie  was  yet  very  far  from  resembling  the  prim, 
demure  broad-brims  of  the  Quaker  city.  In  other  words,  he 
was  gay  and  gallant,  without  rudeness  or  foppery  ;  and  firm  and 
thoughtful,  without  b"ing  strait-laced  and  puritanical.  In  brief 
he  hail  a  character  ot  his  own,  and  was  not  made  up  of  the  odds 
and  ends  of  all  sorts  of  people." 

Our   son    of  Gotham   did   not   exactly    relish    the  comparison 
thus   made    by  one  of  the   group,  and    replied    in  a  rather   stale 
•asm  : — 

"  Tie-  iid  by  way  of  comparison  between  Jersey,  as 

bet  wren    New    York    and    Philadelphia,   the    better.      As    old 
Franklin  phrased  it  —  she  is  the  barrel  on  tap  at  both  ends." 

Tiii-  retort  followed  iVoin  the  former  rpeaker. 

"  TheM'  two  cities  are  the  sewers  of  Jersey.  She  uses  them 
for  common  purposes  —  employing  them  where  needful  for  her 
common  uses,  without  being  responsible  for  their  morals,  or 
troubled  with  their  nuisances.  She,  ns  fortunate  in  escaping  tin- 
evil  rities,  which  >he  can  nevertheless  use  at  pleasure." 

T         was  a  new  view  oi'  the    case  which   had    never   occurred 

to   our   (jothamite,  and    required    reflection.      He  had    no   imme 

answer.       The    other    speaker    continued,    and    made   his 

contributions   to  our  entertainment  'einent  of  certain 

which  miuht   be  wrought  into  story. 

"Jersey,"  lie  sa'ul.  "even  along  the  shores,  and,  in  recent 
periods,  is  not  without  its  picturesque  and  romantic.  It  is  not 


DAi  Gl 

long,  sin  ,-sing  was  di-t ; 

inftunou  ruel    outlaws,    \vh.. 

murderous  because  they  performed  their  crimes  under  ; 
of    night    and    tempot.      II<  TC.    in    situations   favorable  to   their 
i  trade,  dwelt  a    race  of    land    pirates,    sueli  .   the 

ttefl  of  tin  -uch  as    not    man. 

of  Florida  —  sueh  as  still   mislead    and    prey    upon 

innocent    and    un-  .  .    on    the    dreary    land    : 

:<>n  and  California.      Tl.-  .    who    lived    upon 

-t    up    liy  the   sea.    and    who  hung  out  false  lights,  when 

•lark    and    stormy,    to  beguile   the   unwary  and 

1   mariner.        K  very  body   is    aware  of   the   sort   of    life 

winch  they  pursued,  for  many  years,    during  a  period   still   fresh 

within  the  memories  of  men ;  though    no  one  can  conjecture   the 

at  to  which  they  carried    their    nefarious    trallie.      I   heard  a 

story,  not  long  ago,  told  by  a  sea-captain  along  this  route,   which 

mred  me  he  had  from  t:.  |f  authority." 

We  IT,  and  our  .lei-seyan   thus  proceeded:  — 

ago  there   suddenly  ap- 

:n  the  country    along   shore  —  in   a  lonely  and 
.estered   spot  —  of  whom    nobody  knew   anything.     JJrietly, 
no  one    was    particularly  curious    to    inquire.      He    was  mo< 
reserved,     somewhat    sullen,    and    a    person   whose 

:.ing  of  irritable    ])assions,    while    his    physique    was   one   of 
ir   activity    an  :  •  d    him-elf  as 

Ul  Bnglishman,  and  went  by  the  name  of  Dalton.  A 
the  people  could  -ather  from  himself  and  others,  he  w.i 
stood  to  have  hem  a  viilor,  and  I  :  from  the  royal  navy. 

was,  to  a    small    d«-i:n-c-.   a  .patliy    for  him  — 

ularly    as     he     had      be.-n    cruelly    treated    in    the 
Some  ECCOtmtS  ipoke  of  him   a^   one    who.    in    Midden    fray,    had 

:i!in-j. ike  with  a  little  too  heavy  a  hand   upon    an    i: 
lent  and  brutal  lieutenant.      In  leaving  tin  .    in 

:id    at   ^liort  DOtice,  he  yet  took   up  ai  ;«•  which 

still  kept  him  in  daily   commerce   with  the  ocean.      '1  !    of 

was,  perhaps  more  natural  to  his   eyes  than    any  other. 
!!• 

the  restraints  of  aociety  and   law   we:  itu- 

rally  became  |  i    his   spoils   along  the   sea 


b*  SOUTHWAIIJ)    HO! 

side,  after  a  fashion  l.ut  (<><>  common  will  hbora      Kven 

storm  brought   liim   tribute,  and  his   accumulatioi  to  ho 

considerable.     Wreck  ,  d  fearfully  after  his  appea: 

in  the  neighborhood  ;    and,  for  the  goods  thus  brought  to  these 
wild   outlaws,  by  a  wretched    fortune,  they  had   but  one.  duty  to 
perform  — to   bury  out  of  sight  the  human   sufferers  - 
quite  as  frequently  the  victims  of  their  cruel   ma  f  the 

treacherous  shores  and  tempests. 

Dalton  prospered  in  the  horrid  trade;  and  the  rude  cabin  i,i 
which  he  dwelt  alone,  and  which  was  visited  but  ra  .an  to 

improve  in  its  furniture.     Bedsteads  and  beds,  beyond  wlia*   he 
himself  could  use  or  seemed  to  need,  were  accumulated  in  h' 
itary  chamber.    Chairs  and  tables  and  mirrors  followed.    Supplies 
of  crockery,  and  other  things,  implying  the  presen  man, 

were  gradually  brought  from  the  cities  ;  and  conjecture 
ated  the  value  of  his  stores  and  treasures.     At  length,  the 
teiy  of  these  proceedings  was  explained.     Dalton  was  now  heard 
to  speak  of  mother,  wife,  and  sister  — all  of  whom  he  expected 
from  England  —  to  whom  he  had  written,  and  sent  the  i 
money  for  emigration.     He  spoke,  of  these  relations  with  a 
•f  feeling  which  occasionally  softened,  and  even  sweetened,  his 
savage  aspect  and  utterance  ;   and  seemed  to  entertain  for  them 
severally  a  degree  of  affection,  which  could  hardly  have  been 
expected  from  his  nature.     lie  was  a  coarse,  uneducated  man, 
and  the  villanous  scrawl  which  declared  his  wishes  to  his  kindred, 
was  revised  by  one  of  his  neighbors,  better  read  than  himself, 
from  whom,  it  seems,  these  particulars  were  afterward   obtai 
His  letter  was  despatched,  and  he  spoke  frequently  .,f  the  family 
which  he  expected,  and  for  which  he  had  prepared  his  dwelling, 
filling  it   with   comforts,  to  which,    in  all  probability,  they   had 
never  before  been  accustomed. 

"  But  months  elapsed,  bringing  him  no  answer  to  his  end  < 
Meanwhile,  he  still   continued  his   fearful  and    criminal    emj 
ments.       Still    he   prospered    in    all    merely    pecuniary    respi 
He  became  the  envy  of   those 'who  r>  i,js    accumulations 

as  the,  proper  and  permanent  objects  of  desire.      But   th< 
of  sin  and  death  are  delusions  also  ;  —  mockeries,  \\hich   mortify 
the    very   meanest    hearU    even    when    they    are    most   sought, 
and  most  in  possession. 


•' One  dark  and   t.neatnr  Member,  the  wind 

•  si,  a 
sail  w;i>  dhnh  in  tlic   cfi  :  a'k- 

/ed.       Hut.  through    t: 
the 

allowed   up  in  the  united  r.  .  and 

i  and   thunder.     The   billows,  in   mountain    r.  to  in 

Hut    tl.  '    did    ncit    affr'.iji.t    -mi 

: 

en  at  snn>et,  for  his 
:  v  in.],  the   season,  t! 

virnity  of  the    fated  craft    t- 
tributed  to  till   him  with   the   horrid   hope  of  plund- 

life  and  humanity.      He  Mole  out  fr-'M  his  h'-vel.  \ 

•  •f  the  ''riving  fur;  Ind, 

.  wln-iv  hf  '  'ii  of  tar- 

harrel>.     V  i  this  hl.i:-'  -.ins 

of  tlie  li;.;  tun-sin  tliat  hanjue  !       i  ;ht  notlii: 

:her  lights  were  kindle<l,  like  th«».-e  <>f  Dalton, 
and  with  like  chaiiiahle  |uirjinses.  Tlie  diabolical  purpose  was 
aptl;  \  the  watchful  Fat* 

"That   ni^rlit,  while   Dalt««n   crouched  in  his  cahin,  he   fancied 

that  he  heard  human  voices  appealin;:;  to  him.  al",\v  all  the  \ 

of  the  storm.      It  was  n.it  the  lin^ei  ing  Imman  feeling  within  his 

*.  which  made  him  listen  and    tremhle  with  f>*range   and  sti- 

Di.      Hut,  1    that   he  was  cal1  line. 

I!.-  taM-ied  that    the  vo'u-e.x  :!iar,  and  it  seemed   to  him 

.  in  his  ve  -yllaHed  :  wordp 

her,'    '  hu-hand,'    'son.'       He    was    paral_\  x.ed.       A    cold 

1    his   frame.     He  could   not  stir.     He   could   not 

He  hi>    chimney    inastra:  >r,    which 

le  that  he  >h'Mild  either  sleep  or  go  forth  ! 

"Hut    hahitual    guilt    is  a    thing  of  rare    powers  of  hardihood 
and  endurance.      Cupidity  came  to  his  ri-Hrf.      HI-  meditated  the 

of  his   trade.      The    pn  toils,  he;, 

possibility  of  escape,  ai.  e  the  dawn  its  stniggles  \\ 

hav.  The   mornii  .  With  the   fir 

>f  light  he  \sa.s  forth  and  upon  the  sand-.      Tin-  -tnrni  had  sub 


64  SOUTHWARD   HO  ! 

sided,  the  sun  had  opened  his  eyes,  all  brightness,  upon  the 
beautiful  world.  But  the  seas  were  still  tumultuous,  and  Dalton 
could  see  that  a  large  fragment  of  the  stranded  ship,  wi 
tossing  in  their  wild  embraces  in  a  little  cove  which  the  waves 
had  eaten  into  the  sands.  Everywhere  before  him  were  the 
proofs  of  wreck  and  ruin.  Here  a  mast  and  spar,  thi-rc  a  bit  of 
deck  and  bulwark;  there  rolled  a  barrel  in  upon  the  reef,  and 
there  floated  away  a  naked  raft  and  hammock. 

"As  he  wandered,  seeking  and  picking  up  his  spoils,  he  hap 
pened  suddenly  upon  other  trophies  of  the  storm.  On  the  very 
edge  of  the  sea,  where  it  blended  with  the  shoie  in  comparative- 
calm,  lay  two  human  bodies  locked  dosely  in  a  last  embrace. 
Both  were  females.  Their  heads  rested  upon  the  sands.  Their 
garments,  and  the  arms  of  one,  were  lifted  to  and  fro  by  the 
billows.  Did  they  live?  He  approached  them  with  feelings, 
strange  to  him,  of  equal  awe  and  curiosity.  He  had  a  fearful 
presentiment  of  the  truth.  He  drew  them  from  the  waters. 
He  unclasped  them  from  that  strong  embrace  which  they  had 
taken  in  death.  He  beheld  their  faces. 

"'Mother!     Sister!' 

"He  knew  them  at  a  glance! 

"And  it  was  his  hand  that  had  fired  the  beacon  which  had 
conducted  both  to  death. 

11  'My  wife!  my  wife!     I  have  drowned  my  wife!' 

"  Where  was  she!  He  looked  for  her  in  vain.  The  remorse 
less  sea  gave  up  no  other  of  its  victims.  But  he  found  a  box 
in  which  were  his  own  letters.  They  told  her  fate. 

"  His  horror  and  remorse,  too  lately  awakened,  suffered  him  to 
keep  no  secrets.  His  first  outcry  revealed  the  whole  terrible 
hi-t<.ry.  lie  had  avenged  humanity  upon  himself.  Kven  among 
the  wild  creatures  with  whom  he  herded,  the  terrible  judgment 
upon  his  own  miserable  soul,  inflicted  by  his  own  deed,  was  too 
awful  to  seem  to  need  other  penalties.  lie  was  sulIVrfd  to  go 
free.  He  remained  only  long  enough  in  the  neighborhood  to 
per  the  poor  corses  deposited  in  earth,  and  then  lied,  leaving  all 
behind  him — fled  into  the  interior,  and,  it  was  said,  nine  years 
afterward,  that  he  \va«  then  to  be  found,  somewhere  in  Ohio, 
a  sail,  gray-headed  man.  a  devout  Christian,  reconciled  to  the 
Church,  and  waiting  humbly  for  that  change,  which,  it  was  his 


65 

h,,p»' —  .v  .   -  mijrlit  witness  the   purificati< 

•ains  tlir-'Uirh  the  savi:  .  ! .' 

(  i  .!••-•  .-in.  having  finished  hi<  voluntary  yam.  was  votM 
the  thanks  of  tho  company:  ami  it  w:n  then  nnaninn-usly  Agreed 
tliat  our  CothanKte  should  take  up  the  reel.  an<l  see  what  he 
could  do,  at  warp  and  wmif.  in  tln«  l«u<inr«  cf  invention. 

••  \Vi-  iren  ]M-i»mi^»"!  a  sttii-v  «»t'  tln»  troabadoim,  I  tliink,  sir," 

'is. 

\\ ",.    ,,';!    c    •  •  MITC<I   in   the   snl'jcct    tlins    indicatod,    and,    aftor 

it    pivliiiiinarics  Dnyi-kinan    gaTC  u^  a  curious  pie- 

tun«  "t%  tin-  fantastical    sentiment  —  sor'mus   ruoi:«:li  in  its  way  — 

of  whii-li  we  niav  tind  s«>  many  remarkaMc  exain]»les  in  the  his- 

•  if  i-liivnlrv  and   the   crusades.      It  may  not  be  amis-  to  ap- 

the   leader  that    he  will    tind    an  actual   biography  in  what 

follow 

T  II  K     I1  1  l.(i  1M  M    i)  F     l.o  V  K 


•;i:it  iiiiL'ht  not  save, 


PKTRARCH. 


Till     hittory  »f    tho  PP. venial    tn»uh;i-l«'nrs  i-  f '.11  of   irrateful 
and    instructive  material  —  curious   as    history,  in^tructi' 

••jui:   a  hi-'hly-artiticial  state  of   s-.cirty,  and    full  of  int- 
a."   iitcviry    hi" -ra j.liy.     TO    th.-  J  i-    one 

;i  \v\\\    »racli    many  u<«-l'ul    1-  I        To    the 

sionate   dreamer  of  romanrf.  it  will  yitdd    delicious    provnc:.1 
.  in  which  all    hi^  ideals  will    he.  satisfied.      Tln-e  ; 
ranhirs    should    he  written    out    bjpOetSj    not  in  \  that 

'  donl.t<  of  their  v.  ",t    in    a    pro-e    at 

'.J'.jijr  a»id  sentim.-ntal  ;    uniting  tho  oriental  fancy  of  (V 
witl  :u«r  path-.  S      ton  OT •  Landon.     We  commend 

the    idea   to    vtudy  and  examination  ;    and  will  content  < 
in  th-  meantin.e.  with  a  l.rief  sk.-trh  "f  one  .,f  the  most  r.-mark- 
jtblf.  tro'i'>.idours  of  his  ,-i-e  and  order. 

Kudel  wm  a  prince  of  IV     i 

dour       In  th"  >!ent  with   h" 


66  SOUTHWARD  n o  ! 

Our  poet  was  one  of  those  who -could  wield  the  sword  aa 
-veil  as  the  lyre,  lie  was  a  knight  of  high  reputation,  and  a 
gentleman  ;  and,  as  such,  wore  the  honors  of  chivalry  with  all 
tnt'  OH6  "to  the  manner  born."  But,  with  all  these 

was  one  deficiency,  which  was  considered 
fatal  to  the  peifection  of  his  character.  His  -race  and  con: 
were  acknowledged  in  court  and  chaml.er.  lie  could  niak«-  hi-, 
enemy  tremhle  in  the  iield.  As  a  poet  he  had  lire  and  senti 
ment,  and  was  j.eculiarly  .sellable  to  the  glories  of  the  visible 
He  Was  the  favorite  of  princes,  and  was  rank. 

a    peonage,  than    Richard  Cuuir  .ie  I 

But  he  had  never  once  heen  troubled  with  the  tender  pa> 
Jle  had  never  been  beguiled  to  love  by  beauty,  lie  acknowl- 
d  the  charms  of  woman,  but  he  remained  unen.-daved.  He 
c..nld  .sing  of  the  attractions  which  he  did  not  feel,  lie  ha 
muse,  perhaps  his  ideal  perfection,  and  to  her  he  Ming.  He 
portrayed  he,-  charms,  but  he  neither  found  nor  seemed  to  seek 
them.  Tradition  vaguely  hints  at  efforts  which  he  made,  to 
discern  a  likenos  in  the  living  world  to  the  exquisite  creation 
embodied  in  his  mind.  But  he  seemed  to  search  for  her  in  vain. 
His  \vanderings,  seeking  for  this  perfect  creature,  were  wholly 
without  profit.  Ir  seem  that  he  exulted  in  his  insensi 

bility.  An  object  of  universal  admiration  himself,  he  himself 
•antiy  strove  to  admire.  He  did  admire,  but  he  did  not 
love.  The  object  of  pursuit  eluded  his  grasp.  In  tho>e  cL 
it  was  deemed  no  impropriety,  on  the  part  of  the  fairer  sex,  to 
openly  the  conquest  of  (he  brave  knight  and  the  noble 
poet.  Beauty  sought  Geoffrey  Rudel  in  his  solitude.  She 
brought  him  rarest  tribute.  She  spoke  to  him  in  songs,  sweet  as 
hi-  own,  an  i  \\ith  oriental  llowers  more  precious  than  anv  which 
his  care  had  cultured.  She  did  not  conceal  the  passion  which 
hi<  accompli, Innents  had  inspired  ;  but  she  declared  her  .M-cret 
in  vain.  Hi>  heart  seemed  invulnerable  to  every  shaft.  Hi* 
soul  remained  inaccessible  to  all  the  sweet  solicitings  of  1 

It  must  not  be  thought  that  he  found  pride  in  this  insensi 
bility.  H«-  \'cl:  '.'  81  a  misfortune.  F..J-  the  troubadour  not  to 
l'»ve.  f  that  very  charm  which  alone 

LW  them  immortality.      For  the  knight  to  be  untouched 
by  the    charms  of  woman,  was   to  wither   the    greened    chaplet 


Tl!i  HT.  67 

1    upon    ]  B  lared   liis 

•  •eptihility  «>f  his  heart.      Hi-  prayer  eml" 
:'.tii»n    that  lie  mijrht    he  made  to   love.       P.ut    he  prayed    for 
heaNenlv  >ked    for   eartldv  loveliness,   in  vain. 

Hi-  mind  was   jjreatly  saddened  l.y  his  rniiclitinn.      Hi- 
impaired   liis  energies.      He  '.    (lie  tor,: 

•••>urt.  and   delivered   himself  up  to  a  musing   and  n 
6   life.  \\hich  \\;t>   Only  i!<»t   utter  vacancy.      At   a  season  of 
:al    hustle    amnn«r    the    nat'  .ink    into    apathy.      lie 

had    served    in    arms    with    Richard,  hut   the    entreaties    of  that 
•tuous   and    powerful    monarch    no   I'li^er   succeeded   in   be 
guiling  him  finm  ]>>  -.Oitude.      The  world  was  ajrain  arrayed  in 
•  r — tl:e  wl-i,!,'  R      !        •    ( 'in-ij-tfiidom  —  moving  under 

the   imp""  .  at  the  wild  instance  of  St. 

ard.       !';•  BT8  in  pr-'j;.ess  for  the  >econd  cru>ailt', 

hut  the  stir  ot   the  multitude  aroused  no  answering  chord  in  liis 
dona,       !!'•    put   on   n>  .-hi   liung  upon   his 

wall-  .-ar  runted  leneath  it,  and  no  trumpet  was  sounded 

at    his    jjates.      Like    one    ON crrome  with    >!oth,   (J»-«itVrev    Ivudel 
lay  couched  within    the    (jiiiet    retreats  of  liis   ca.-tle    near    I'oiir- 
,\,  and    jrave  m»  heed  to  the  cries   and  clamors  of  the  world 
without.      Hut    lii*   soul    had   not   lap-ed    away  in   luxui:.-.      He 

i  in  no  pleasures  :;iore  exciting  than 

li       -  -  :    '.'.  -  rather  than   delight.      IIi>l\re  sent 

forth  the  ten  nio-t  touching  la:..entation. 

11  t  W«a    tilled  with    I  ,  M   lie  entreated  vainly  that  it 

should  he  iilled  with  love.      \"t TV  >\\  ,  ,:ii>  hallads  ;    plain- 

which    fainly  sought    to 

ally  the;  •  With  a  soul   p\rn  up  t«- 

plat'mns,  which,  if.  .t  warlik.  ••  no  heed 

he    movement  :i    the   rej  :ethren  — 

Jits  and  trouhadour.s.      The  preaching      !    Bt   Bernard  touch 
ed  not  him.      We  do  not  know  that  he  ever  !;-•  |  .  that 

nor,  indeed,  ran  we    pretend    to 

assert  that  his   conversion  ever   torn  ial  ohject  with  tho 

pre;ic!.i  ..      I'.',;    ;' .»•    i •:  •;.  •  •  \sere    ur^ed    upon    him, 

ami    without  He    Answered    them    with    a    melancholy 

denial,  which    declared    hi-  :n<.re    than    his   indinYi' 

Soui  •  of  .  written  at  this   period,  have  been   prcM-rvrd 


68  SOUTHWARD    HO! 

to  us.  They  are  remarkable  for  their  delicacy,  their  plaintive- 
ness  of  tone,  the  nice  taste  hy  which  his  spirit  was  informed, 
and  the  grief  of  those  yearnings,  the  denial  of  which  was  the 
true  cause  of  his  lethargy.  rriie  muse  to  which  he  now  yielded 
himself  was  that  of  a  latent  affection.  The  wild  spirit  of  war 
fare,  had  no  voice  for  his  soul.  He  sung —  hut  why  not  suffer 
him  to  speak  for  himself,  those  tender  sensibilities  which  he.  has 
put  into  verse,  not  wholly  unworthy  of  his  renown?  Our  rnde. 
English  version  may  show  the  character  of  his  M-ntiment,  if  ;i"t 
the  peculiar  art  and  the  ingenuity  of  his  strain.  He  speaks  in 
this  sonnet  of  his  despondency,  and  of  that  ideal  which  he  de 
spairs  to  find  in  life. 

"  From  nature  comes  the  lesson  of  true  love  — 

She  teaches  me,  through  (lowers  und  fruits,  to  gmce 

My  forri  in  gay  i«j»i>;irel,  and  to  JTOM- 

Km  how  much  heart  my  own  can  fun.iih  place. 

The  nightingale  bin  tender  mate  caresses, 
Caressed  in  turn  hy  mutual  look  and  strain; 

Ah  !   happj  birds,  whom  ge:iial  love  thus  blesses, 
Ye  t<-ai-;i  me  what  to  seek,  yet  teach  in  vain. 

I  languish  still  in  siienct your  delight  — 

The  shepherd  with  his  pip< the  eager  child, 

That  makeg  his  lahor  speak  in  pleasures  wild  — 

AU  that  I  hear,  ami  all  that  lives  in  sight  — 
iStill  mock  me  \\ith  denial.  In  my  woes 
The  whole  world  triumphs.  Still  the  image  glows, 

More  and  more  brightly  on  my  yearning  eye  — 
A  thousand  passionate  hopes  <!•  -nv  repose, 

And  warm  me  still  with  promises  that  fly  ' 

Oh!   my  soul's  image,  when  shall  these  he  o'er, 

When  shall  I  see  tliee  near,  an. I  seek  thee  never  more." 

This  is  a  sweet  murmur,  not  overstrained,  and  happily  ex 
pressed.  It  should  have  silenced  the  reproaches  which  were  at 
length  showered  upon  his  head.  It  shows  him  to  have  po-»>e«-r.l 
"ill  at  once  tender  and  passionate,  if  not  susceptible;  and 
such  now  was  the  usual  Imrden  of  his  song,  lint  it  tailed  to 
convince  his  neighhors.  Heauty,  disappointed  in  all  her  en 
deavors,  proclaimed  him  an  insensible.  Vv'e  little  know,  at  this 

day,   how  keen    and    terril-le    was    such    B     <  h,  at    a   period 

when  love  was  the  very  smil  of  chivalry.      Ki:!i:hih 1  regarded 

Uim  as  a  recreant    to  its  order,  which   insisted  upon  a  miMress  ab 


THK  i..\i>v  nr   iKirni.i.  69 

first    and  most    powerful    incenthe  to  valor.      He  \\  as   called 

,:any    cruel    epith.  >elii>h,    unjrentle  ;    Barren    oi 

lu-art,  capricious  and  pcevi.-h  ;    loving  himself  only,  like  anothei 

.  when  a  whole  world,  worthy  of  a-better  heart,  crowd 

ed   around    him   solicit  fnjr   his   love  ;    and    this,   too,   at   the   very 

moment  when  he  was  repining  with  the  tenderest  yearnings,  for 

B    object,  jirerious    over    all,  upon  whom   to  expend    the 

whole  wealth  of  his   affections.      Hut    lie  was  not  long  to  yearn 

thus  hopelessly.      The  fates  wer  •  ahout  to  ;;iv  an  answer  to  the 

',    reproaches    under   which    he    had    suftered.      They    V 
aho;;-  that    hi.-,  pa-Mou  was   intense  in    proportion  to  the 

i  ;  :iuy  wa<  i.r.ite  as  curious  as 

tfl    hy  way  .-f  w;'.rit::iLT.      The    reader 

•  kii  -w  t!  C  u-ritinj:  >i.l»'r  history.      AVe  are  not  now 

g  \.ith  artful  r  his  fancy.     The  chronicles 

are  •          n    lettered    hy   the    ancient 

-t  sombre  black-letter. 

It   irafl  whih-  <  Kudel  thus  lay,  sad  and  sighing,  at  his 

Ifl  of  1'daye.  D  .  that  news   came  from  the  Holy 

1.. -.nd.  which  M-t  Obrifltendom  o.u-e  more  iu  commotion.     The 

(   ru-ader*    ha-!    _"iie    forward  in  iron    legions.      They  had    been 
«uicces>ful  in   every  l-.ittle,  and    their  triumphs  were   ujion  Bl 

.Jeru>ah-m,  the   Holy  (  "ity,  had  fallen  hefoie  their  anus, 
after  jirodijrie.-  of  valor  had  h«-en  shown  in  it>  defence.      But  "he 
knighthood,   and    the   bloody    triumphs    of  the   Kittle- 
field,  were  not  alone  the  theme  of  the  troubadour  and   the.  trav- 
•  •ller.      The  >t"i\    which,  above    all.   had    served    to   enliven   the 
filiation,  and  charm  the  lyre  of  Kurope.  \\  as  that  o*  a  certain 
of   Tripoli  —  a    lady,    irDOM     1-ravcry.    under    circuiu 
f  particular  dirliculty  and  jieril,  v.  as  deemed  the  Mibjec* 
of  greatest  wonder  and  delight.      Her   beauty  had  been  already 
It    was   now  ennobled    in    Provencal    min>trel>y,   by    in- 
:mit\  ,  and  prat  ness  of  soul,  such  as 

M'ldom  been    shown  liy  her  sex  befoi  H-      el    -tic   spirit, 

the  firmness  of  her  S"ul,  the  ^race  of  her  carriage,  the  lovelinesi 
of  her  face  and  pi  :  1  in  a  thou>and  di' 

Th<-  from  the    Holy  Land  could  sneak  of  nothing 

ur   caught  up  the  grateful    1  1  f"tmd   new 


70  SOUTHWARD    HO! 

inspiration  in  tlie  recital.  Faint  echoes  of  the  story  rent-lied  0111 
disconsolate  poet,  ami  fell  with  a  renovating  influence  upon  his 
spirit.  lie  heard,  and  hearkened  with  a  greedy  interest.  The 
recital  touched  the  .dormant  chords  of  his  nature.  He  grew 
e\cited  as  he  listened,  suddenly  flung  off  his  lethargy,  and  soon 
his  lyre  began  to  emulate  and  excel  all  others,  in  rehearsing  the 
charms  of  her  person  and  the  beauties  of  her  soul,  lie  all  at 
once  realized  his  ideal.  The  countess  of  Tripoli  \vas  the  creature 
of  all  his  imaginings.  The  image  in  his  soul  had  found  a  living 
likeness.  It  had  long  been  the  image  in  his  dreams  —  it  was 
now  the  object  of  his  waking  passion.  It  filled  the  measure  of 
his  hopes  ;  it  heightened  the  glory  of  his  dreams.  He  loved  — 
he  was  no  longer  without  a  soul. 


II 

THE  imagination  of  our  troubadour  thus  powerfully  excited, 
it  was  not  surprising  that  IK-  should  enjoy  a  glorious  vision  of 
the  lady  of  his  thought-,  lie  lay  sleeping,  during  a  slumberous 
summer  evening,  in  a  favorite  bower  of  his  garden  :  his  lute, 
noting  be.xidc  him,  was  silent  also;  but  he  still  clasped  between 
his  fingers  the  illuminated  missal,  in  which  the  wandering  monk, 
scarcely  less  infatuated  than  himself,  had  sought  to  enshrine  the 
beauties  of  the  Lady  of  Tripoli  in  the  character  of  the  Blessed 
Virgin.  In  the  dee])  draughts  of  delirious  passion  which  the 
picture  had  helped  to  enliven,  the  troubadour  might  well  lapse 
away  from  delicious  fancies  into  as  delicious  dreams.  The  warm 
sun  <  f  hi*  region  helped  the  influence.  The  birds  of  IVovi  nee 
ministered  also  —  singing  overhead  those  sweet  'v//;/vvvw,  halt 
play,  half  sentiment,  which  seem  to  have  furnished  the  model 
for  many  of  the  best  specimens  of  Provencal  p»etrv.  The 
flowers  gave  forth  a  soft,  persuasive  fragrance.  The  h  , 
floated  to  and  fro  upon  the  slendc  :,  vines,  under  the 

balmy  influence  of  the  southern  bree/e,  ever  and  anon  stooping 
to  his  floating  hair,  and  trembling  over  his  somruliat  pallid 
cheek.  A  favorite  greyhound  slept  at  his  feet,  his  long  brown 
resting  upon  the  -ayly-\\  roughf  >Iippers  which  euchred  them. 
Warm  fancies,  working  with  the  BOaSOD  and  the  .scene,  pp-veii 
f  ur  poet  as  deliciously  iMireoti/ing  as  those  fabled  bre 


inr  71 

that  ith    delirium    the    \  \.     The 

,11   c.-inp-  tllO 

u  nk  t  heing 

IOH    which,  nt    that    in-: 
A  ie  forth  i!  Mil 

him  1  .c  nf  Messing  but 

.    T!  «•  Li  !\-  of  hi 
•his  iii.:  i.    • 

•Mil    her  —  the    severe 

' .umUer,  lint    not    '  sing 

with    tin'  .:.  1    their    shields.      And    he    himself — he 

jn-ince    of  — WM    in    the   midst    of   the 

:.did   cirrli-  D    t«>   whom   all    ey.'-    \\  <  i  e   «!r;iwn  — 

1  .     But  «i 

IlU'llie-it  'IS  vi>in;; 

beg;  ly  more  and  more  dim, 

witliout  Lrr«'\vin^  h»<s  heanTiiul  —  In-  eanght  the  whisjiered  words 
of  her  parting  >alntati«m  —  "Hither  t..  me,  Rti.Iel  —  hither  to 
me—  .  and  the  peace  —  shall  they 

h  he  tbii 


rrnis  was  a  I-'  slumhor.      It  was  a  bliss  too 

t   waking.      Rndel  '  \vith 

tlie  .  '    rapture.      !!••  -r.nt.-d    t«>    h  iin- 

'1'he  Ho' 
in  vain  stretched  forth  to  h;  ! 

•   •   e 

:.  and  lifted  hi  the 

i    e  old 

A  new 

bit.    A  '  d  n; 

'  \\'hat 

iply  in  1,  His 

!ity        He    i:<>    !-:     •  Bel 


72 

at  last ;  for,  until  one  loves,  lie  can  not  be  said  to  live.  The 
life  of  humanity  is  love.  The  new  pa.sMon  prompted  new  ener 
gies.  Geoffrey  Riulel  was  still  at  Blaxe,  but  he  might  soon  be 
at  Tripoli,  lie  made  his  preparations  for  Tripoli  accordingly. 
Once  more  his  good  steed  was  put  in  exercise.  His  shield  wan 
taken  from  the  wall.  His  lance  was  cleansed  of  its  rust,  ;:nd 
glittered  gayly  in  the  sunbeams,  as  if  rejoicing  in  its  resumed 
employments.  The  proud  spirit  of  knighthoo •;  was  once  more 
rekindled  in  the  bosom  of  our  hero.  He  was  again  a  living  man, 
with  all  the  tenderness  which  inspires  brave, y  to  s«-ck  adven 
ture.  It  wa;-.  easy  now  to  feel  all  the  enthusiasm  at  which  it 
was  his  wont  to  smile;  and  he  could  now  look  with  regret  and 
mortification  at  those  ttaya  <-f  apathy  whK-:i  kept  him  in  repose 
when  St.  Bernard  went  through  the  land,  preaching  his  mission 
of  power.  He  could  no\v  understand  the.  virtue  c»f  \ .•  living  home 
and  family,  friends  and  fortune,  to  ii^lit  f< T  the  Holy  Sepulchre. 
The  spirit  of  the  crusade  suddenly  impregnated  his  soul. 
emnly  he  took  up  the  cross  —  literally,  in  the  figure  upon  lis 
garments  —  and  made  his  preparations  lor  embarking  for  the 
Kast.  Never  had  a  change  so  sudden  been  wrought  in  human 
bosom.  Nor  did  he  conceal  the,  true  occasion  of  the  miracle. 
When  did  troubadour  ever  withhold  the  secret  of  his  passion  } 
It  was  his  pride  to  reveal.  Geoffrey  Rudel  loved  at  last.  He, 
too.  could  he  made  to  yield  to  the  spells  of  beauty.  His  lyre 
was  not  silent.  He  unfolded  himself  in  the  most  exquisite  itn- 
prowisations,  which  we  should  but  coldly  render  in  our  harsh 
language  of  the  North.  He  who  had  been  all  apathy  before, 
was  now  all  excitement.  His  limbs  trembled  with  the  wild  fev.-r 
in  his  veins.  A  deep  spot  of  red  grew  suddenly  apparent  on 
his  faded  cheek.  A  tone  of  nervous  impatience  now  di^tin 
iriiished  the  utterance  which  had  hitherto  been  gentle  and  for- 
tn-;n-iiig  always.  His  mu.se  .spoke  more  fVe.jucntly,  and  witn 
a  spasmodic  energy,  which  had  not  been  her  UMial  characteris 
tic.  We  preserve  another  of  his  sonnets,  feebly  rendered  into 
our  dialect,  which  be  penned  just  before  leaving  Provence  lor 
rhe  East :  — 

"Sin-  I  ailiuc,  \vliniii,  savi-  in  nightly  dreams, 

I. flu-Ill,  y«'t  am  I  S'HX 
Sho  ia  mi  other  tlmn  tin-  thing-  »hi»  sfornb 
A  lhu.£   lor  iovi;  ami  \\i-i. >i.   : 


Til  LDOUB    I'KI'AUTS.  7^ 

Oh  !  i 

t  the  fair, 
Your  hripht-rheekod  maids  of  Christendom,  tho  h*it 

For  saintly  viitties  and  endowments  rare  — 
May  rank  witli  ht-r  whom  yet  I  do  not  tee, 

To  whom  I  may  not  speak —  who  dors  not  know 
M\  !.<>•     !_:>  ,  \i  i  who  nightly  comes  to  mo, 

And  hid*  my  hope*  revive,  my  pa-^iori  eh>w. 
With  day  sin-  disappears,  and  then  alone, 
I  know  that  she  is  distant: — I  will  fly; 

space  hetween  that  foiei^n  iky, 
And  hare  to  her  the  heart  so  much  ht-r  own. 
The  ;«eas  will  not  In-tray  me,  when  they  know 
is  my  c'lid.-  and  hi. Is  me  death  defy." 

li  -    preparations  were    not   long   delayed.      His  soul  was   too 

BI  in  its  new  pasH<>n  to  permit  of  any  unnecessary  wa<t«     "f 

tin).-.      His  tlanic  lin.-l  Kccuine  a  frcn/y  —  tin-  leading  idea  of  his 

mind,  which   reas'-n    had    cea>«-d    in    r»->i-t,  and  whicdi  friends    no 

.  r  \nitnrcd  to  r<>nil>at.  His  jirejiarations  coinjiletcd,  and 
the  l«ark  ready,  liis  JM-H  remrds  mie  <»t  tlie  usual  vows  »>t'  knitrlit- 

itry.  In  the  InllnxviiiLr  sonnet,  he  |irofe»es  that  hinnility 
which  \vas  coniniunly  set  forth  (jiiite  too  ostentatiously  to  he  sin- 
hut  which,  in  his  ca>e.  the  sexual  of  our  story  will 
show  to  have  heen  deeply  seated  in  his  smil.  We  shall  not  lind 
it  necessary  to  call  the  attention  particularly  to  the  dclicai  • 

-entinieiits    contained    in    these    selections  —  a    deli 

add,  which  speaks  more  certainly  tor  the  particular  instance 
before  us,  than  it  ordinarily  did,  at  that  period,  for  the  general 
•iiann-ter  .if  chivalry  :  — 

that   I  d.'pait  —  a::d  dad  in  wool 
With  piliriim  slatT  h.-lore  :  •,, — 

it    \\ith  pity  tor  my  love  and  wo, 
•oifieis  me  within  her  palnco  rule. 
But  lhi»  won-  too  much  joy.      Enough  to  be 
Near  thr  hlest  city  which  slie  iv«  p^,  though  there, 

lUJnph  of  t;.. 
And  fall  a  rapti\e  (.>  IMS  !>uw  and 

Heaven  grant  me  the  <\\ ,  .  t  l>i.-s«ir  <:  in  the  prayr  '  — 
Transport  me  thilhei — l.-t  n,i-,  in  l-(-r  siirht. 

The  rapture,  horn  ot  .  -  .are, 

And  live  -t..  iuui:  w:;iiiii  I     :  _;iit, 

'I     •   . 


71  SOUTHWARD  no! 

The  sentiment  that  touched  the  soul  of  Geoffrey  "Rudel,  was 
certainly  no  common  one.  It  may  have  been  a  fanaticism,  lint 
it  was  such  a  fanaticism  as  coulil  only  happen  to  a  p<»et.  In  in 
ferior  decree,  however,  the  frenzy  was  not  an  unusual  one.  It 
belonged  to  the  age  and  to  his  profession,  if  the  performances  of 
the  troubadour,  at  any  time,  c«»nld  properly  deserve  this  title! 
;non  to  his  order,  it  was  heightened  as  well  as  refined  bv 
the  peculiar  temper  of  his  individual  mind,  and  by  that  con 
templative,  inner  or  spiritual  life  which  he  had  lived  so  1 
Though  spoken  aloud,  and  fondly  and  frequently  reiterated,  it 
was  no  momentary  ebullition.  The  passion  had  fastened  upon 
his  mind  and  his  ailections  equally,  and  wa.;  fixed  there  by  the 
grateful  image  that  informed  his  dreams.  These,  repeated 
nightly,  according  to  the  tradition,  gave  him  no  time  to  cool. 
riieir  visitation  was  periodical.  Their  exhortation  was  ] 
jiing.  They  preyed  upon  his  strength,  and  his  physical  powers 
declined  in  due  degree  with  the  wondrous  increase  of  his  mental 
energies.  He  set  sail  for  Palestine  with  all  the  fervor  of  his 
enthusiasm  upon  him,  as  warm  and  urgent  as  when  it  had  seized 
upon  him  first.  The  voyage  was  protracted,  and  the  disease  of 
our  pilgrim  underwent  increase  from  its  annovances.  But,  if  his 
frame  suffered,  the  energies  of  his  soul  were  unimpaired.  His 
muse  was  never  in  better  wing  or  vigor.  Still  he  sung,  ai.d 
with  all  the  new-born  exultation  of  a  lover.  The  one  hope  of 
his  heart,  the  one  dream  of  his  fancy,  gave  vitality  to  every  ut 
terance.  The  image  of  the  beautiful  and  noble  Countess  of 
Tripoli  was  reflected,  from,  and  through,  all  his  sonnets,  ,i> 
through  a  mirror  of  magic.  Of  their  usual  burden,  a  single 
specimen  will  suffice  :  — 

14  When  my  foot  presses  on  those  sacred  shores  — 

To  m>'  thrice  sacred,  as  they  he-ir  the  sign, 
Thnt,  lifted  hi^li,  nil  Christendom  adores  — 

And  the  proml  beauty  I  have  loved  as  mine  — 
My  song  shall  speak  my  prison  —  she  shall  hear 
How  much  I  love  —  how  powerful  is  the  sway, 
Her  charms  maintain  <  <  far  away, 

That,  until  now,  no  other  chains  could  v 
Ah,  sure,  .she  will  not  let  me  --in;:  in«vai-i — 
Such  deep  devotion,  such  Abiding  trust, 
Love,  go  wholly  horn  of  her  own  lieauty,  must 
Touch  lid  sweet  >pinl  with  u  pleading  pain  ' 


to  mo." 

~t  allusion  in   tliis   poem   may  not  be   «JM   readily  ni 
!  in  our  times.      It  is   still  a  sub',  -i»n.      It 

t  l.y  snin,  .ence  to  the  old  tradition  of  gift* 

l.y  fairies  upon  persons  in  tlioir  infancy.     Onr  own  no- 
\Bt  that  it  is  taken  from  one  of  (lie   institutions  of  chivalry. 
s;ii<l  to  l>c  lorn   only  when   he   had   received  the 
honors  of  knighthood.     At  this  ceremony  lie  had  a  god-fatln 
:  \vas  usually  chosen  hy  the  novice  in 

:  of  his  high  renown,  his  hravery  and  good  fortune.      A 

:  of  these   ^ooil  <jualit:<  naturally  sup] 

Me    of  translation.      The    sponsor    answered    f,.r   the    . 
Dualities  of  the   youthful   squire,  ami   bestowed  on  him  his  ble>- 

The  allusion  in  the  verses  quoted  : 
ire.  it'  we  remember  the  relationship  hetween  the  parties. 

IV 

l)i  i  we  must  not  linger.  The  excitement  of  our  troubadour 
inciva.M-d  with  the\"\;t^e.  It  was  hardly  re.-trainable  within 
the  hounds  iif.saiiitv  as  tlu-  >hip  appn»aclu-.l  her  jmrt  of  destina 
tion.  Undid  w,-i-  !.eli)\"<l  by  all  on  board.  His  <rrace,  talent, 

ntry,  ami  eut!ri>i.i-r.i,  had  toiiche<l  all  hearts.      The  curious 
history    ol    hi-    pa>-inn   had   lit'ted    him    in    their   admiration    and 
w-.ndrr.      Thev  saw.  with  many  misgiyin^s,  that  it  was  crn.\ 
momently  at  the  peril  <  f  his  life  and  reason.      Hut  it  wa>  vain  to 

Mul;:te   \\itli    •  inplet'jly   lifted  by  his    fervor  beyond 

the  reach  of  ordi  n<  nl      M--  ate  hut  little  and  h.-i 

appetite.      His   ailjin-n'  i  wholly  from   the 

l.y    \\liieh    he   was  possessed,    \\  stimulating    inllui 

which  j^ave   him    strength    in    the    ab>eiire   of  moital  nutriment. 
\      y  tliin,  in«!eed,  were    the    chei-ks   which  yet  bi  with 

I  he    >kin    of  i 

delicately  white  and  ti  '  the  bin-'  \rin> 

liuent  upon  l.i  1,  and    \ 

•!;rou^h  h 

•    a  \\ild,  unnatiir.il  iiiten>:ty  thai  •       :  •  dart  tin 

!der.      And   yet    it    w,  t,  e\en    then,  th.\: 


glance  which  seemed  to  penetrate  your  soul,  was  full  of  intelli 
gence  to  which  you  wore  not  a  party.  The  soul  of  that  Blanco 
was  elsewhere,  far  in  advance  of  the  slowly-sailing  ship,  in 
search  of  the  mistress  of  his  desires. 

Fearful  was  the  fever  that  preyed  upon  his  enfeebled  f-.-.m  •. 
Yet,  while  momently  sinking  in  the  sight  of  all,  his  heart 
full  of  hope  and  courage.  There  was  a  cheering  and 
prising  elasticity  in  his  tones  —  an  exulting  consciousness  of 
sured  success  in  voice  and  aspect  —  which  made  him  superior  :  • 
all  human  anxieties.  While  no  one  even  supposed  he  couM 
over  reach  the  shore  alive,  he  himself  had  no  ilouhts  that  he 
would  certainly  do  so.  His  confidence  in  this  destiny  rai>vd 
strange  supernatural  convictions  in  his  brother  knights,  the  com 
panions  of  his  voyage.  Their  interest  in  his  fate  increased 
as  they  heheld  and  listened.  He  spoke  to  them  freely,  and 
poured  forth,  at  frequent  moments,  the  sentiments  which  were 
inspired  hy  his  passion.  The  exquisite  sonnets  which  were  thus 
delivered,  .seemed  to  them  the  utterance  of  a  being  already  re 
leased  from  human  bonds;  they  were  so  tender,  so  hopeful,  and 
withal  so  pure.  The  extravagance  of  his  flame  was  fin-gotten  in 
its  purity.  The  wildness  of  his  delirium  was  sweet,  because  of 
it>  grace  and  delicacy.  They  spread  their  fruits  before  him, 
and  poured  forth  their  beakers  of  Greek  wine,  to  persuade,  him 
to  partake  of  more  nourishing  food  than  any  which  his  passion 
could  provide ;  and  he  smiled  as  he  tasted  of  their  fruits,  and 
lifting  the  goblet  to  his  lips,  he  chanted  :  — 

"  Ay,  bring  me  wine  of  Cyprus, 

The  sweetest  of  the  grove, 
And  we  will  drink,  while  passing, 

A  brimful  draught  ot  love,— 
The  laughing  wine  of  Cyprus, 

A  brimful  draught  for  n.« •; 
And  I  will  yield  while  passing 

The  goblet  to  the  gen  ! 
Yeg  !   Bring  me  wine  of  Cyprus  ' 

And,  without  quailing,  he  flung  the  beaker  into  the  deep.  He 
needed  not  the  stimulus  of  wine.  As  he  had  no  longer  a  rel 
ish  for  earthly  nourishment,  so  it  had  no  power  upon  his  bio,  d 
or  spirit. 


Till:   DREAM    REALTZI  T7 

1    at  length  witli  the  si^rht  of  the  -lr 

I'.ih-Mine, —  tfic    Promised    Land,  indeed,  to   him.      But  such  an 
outhu-iasiii  as  that  which  had  p<  ill  could  not  i 

heen  entertained    hy  anv   mortal,  except    at    vital    ha/ard.      II  - 
j..v  'iivuUion.      Lifted  tViun  the  vessel  and  placed  with 

:pou  the  earth   he  sank  down  in  a  BWOOI1,  t'^  all  a|  pear- 
ance  dead.      lint    the   faith  which    he    had    in  the    ;  !    his 

dream,  was  Mitllcient  to  reanimate  his  strength.      Borne  on  a  lit- 
nvr-t   dwelling,  the  wonderful   story  of   his  pi<>:oii. 
and  nf  hi>  FOjagC  in  jnn-suit  of  its  object,  WU  BOOH  l-orne  tlir»ujrh 
'I'rijH.li.      It    reached,  anioni:    others,  the    ears  of   the  nohlc  lady 
had  hcen  so  innocently  the  cause  of  his  misfortunes.      Then 
it  \\a*  that  he  reali/ed  the  vision  that  hlessed  him  while  he  slept 
'/     l'.Ia\e.      '1'he    j  :'  Tripoli  was    sensilde  to  all    his 

BhO  Wl     '  •    :    '.  the  devotion  of  the  tronhaih»ur,  . 

lie    lay  in    a   state  «>!'   s\Vf«tn  that    looked    the    imair«'    of 

d«-ath    it -elf.  i  ;u--ht  once  more  the  endearing  Mumii"ii-, 

.ninl  the  :  that  melodiuu^  voice,  which    had  arous»-d  him 

his  despondency  and    dream-.      <  Mice  more  it  whispered    to 

vultinir    >"ul    the    happy  invitation  :   "  Hither  to  me.  Uudel, 

hither  t"  me;    and  the  love  that  thoii  seekest  —  and  the  peace  — 

shall  they  not  hoth  h    thine,?" 

/ 

V. 

ir  words  ,*:     ;  ed    him  from  his  swoon.      He  opened 

hi-  eve-  upon  the   lij^ht,  hut    it  was   only  to   i-l.ise  them  I'T  ever. 

But  they  had    «rain«  •!    all  that  wa^    precious  in  that  one  opening 

le  glance  around  him.  hy  the  dyinir  tmuha«h«ur.  Allowed 

him  all  that  he    had    s-u-ht.       Her  h  dy  and    s\\  eet   faCfl  WM  the 

•hat  he  hehehl.      1!  -miled  i'iic'>urap'in»'nt  and  love. 

It   was    her    precious    emhrace    that    BUCCOtod    his  : sinking  frame. 

These  1  set,  let    it  not    he  l'orur"ttrn,  were   not,  in    th-i-i' 

da\s.  incon-istent    with    the    jmrest  virtue.      The    \-ouni:    maiden 

frequently  nurse  and  physician  to  the  stranger  knight, 
hrou^lit  l,im  nourishment  and  medicine,  dressed  hi--  \\ound<. 
scrupled  at  no  a.  t.  houever  delicate,  which  wa-  BO] 
(  >ur  c<.untess  hail  h«-eu  tauj 
the-  not  mere!  of  duty,  hut  | 


78  SOUTH\V.\;:!I  im! 

It  is  probable  tliat  a  deeper  intereM  in  the  sntl'rier  before  her 
G  a  wanner  solicitude  to  her  inimMrations.  She  had  heard 
the  whole  story  of  our  troubadour,  and  of  the  influence  which 
she  had  pOflfteasftd  in  rousing  him  from  Hs  apathy  into  life,  even 
though  that  awakening  had  been,  finally,  fatal  to  life  itself. 
Of  i  and  virtues  she  knew  before,  and  many  were  tlio 

admirer*  v.h<>  bid  already  taught  her  how  sweet  and  passionate, 
and  how  purely  due,  to  herself,  were  the  songs  and  sonnets  of 
Rudel.  It  was  even  whispered  that  their  offices  were  hv  no 
means  necessary  to  her  knowledge.  There  were  those  who 
insisted  that  then-  had  heen  some  strange  spiritual  commerce 
between  the  parties,  though  so  many  leagues  asunder.  The 
story  ran  that  (JeofVrey  Rudel  had  been  as  much  the  object  of 
her  dreaming  fancies  as  she  had  been  of  his.  They  said  that 
while  he  beheld  her  in  the  inspiring  vision  of  the  noonday,  in 
his  garden  at  Blaye,  she  herself,  in  a  state  of  prolonged  tram-t 
at  Tripoli,  was  conscious  of  his  presence,  and  of  her  own  inter- 
in  his  fate,  elsewhere.  It  is  certain  that  she  betrayed  no 
surprise  when  she  heard  his  story  fr  >m  mortal  lips.  She  be 
trayed  no  surprise  at  his  coming,  and  she  was  among  the  first 
to  attend  the  bedside  of  th.  dying  man.  He  felt  her  presence, 
as  one,  even  in  sh-eji,  feels  the  sudden  sunshine.  He  breathed 
[y  ;it  ber  approach,  as  if  the  Hitting  soul  were  entreated  back 
f«>r  a  liniment,  by  her  charms,  to  its  prison-house  of  mortality. 
She  embraced  him  as  he  lapsed  awav,  while  her  eves,  dropping 
the  biggexi  tears  Mere  iiiird  up  to  heaven  in  resignation,  but 
with  grief.  He,  in  that  mysterious  n-i.->if,.;rl,  gazed  only  upon 
her.  His  fading  glance  wa-  'i'b'd  with  exultation.  His  hope 
Mas  realixed.  He  expired,  thrice  happy,  since  he  expired  in 
her  arms.  The  prophetic  vision  had  deceived  him  in  no  si: 
particular.  She  was  one  of  the  first  to  receive  and  welcome 
him.  His  reception  had  been  one  of  state  and  sympathizing 
ceremonial.  He  behold,  even  as  he  died,  the  very  groiip>  which 
his  dream  had  shown  him.  There  \\ere  the  severe  and  stately 
:'  the  Knights  of  the  Temple  —  there  again  were  the 
humbler  Brothers  of  the  Hospital.  1'rinces  and  barons  drew 
nigh  it;  armor  and  resting  upon  their  shields,  as  at  a  solemn  ser- 
.11  the  midst,  the  figure  to  whom  all  eyes  were 
:.  and  she,  tl  e  nearest  to  his  he;:it.  u  as  also  the 'near 


f^  to  his  person.      Th'  «  which  she  had  pp.m 

:  lefed  the  fill:  '.-it. 

All    tin-so    things   had    real!  Hut    the  - 

nonial,  which  his  flattering  fancies  had  pei>naded  hin. 
rfdal,  \v  as  in  truth  his  funeral.  I  Kin;:,  thus  lamrai 
It  that  it  was  a  hridal  aN.».  In  tin-  hriff  i-'>imnuiiiou  \\hich 

MM!,  he    f(dt    that    their 
•'   united.      S!  plainly  as  eyes  could 

-hall    the\ 
U>  thine  ?"    and  in  this   happy  faith   he  yielded   up   his  spirit  on 

.,tly  huried    anion^    the    Ki;  _ 
Tripoli.      Scarcely  had    this  menial   t    ' 

.^nnan    he    had 

•'rin   the    i»ivvi..u>   nn,,..rs  of  the;: 

spiritual    syiupathi.--.       II.".     heart    I  ;nlv    inoiv 

intended    in    liis   fate  than  ini-ht  wtdl    liave    l.een  the 
their  mutual  si.uls  imt  e'.inniuned    hcfun-.      Tlio  verv  d 
de;ith.  she  win.  had  lived  a  princess,  in    t! 
and   ucn.lenn-   nations,  Midden!  fr,,m    thr 

hurie.I    her    head,   if   i,,,t    her    MCTeft,    hen-ath    tlie    h.M.«l    ,,f   tin- 
'''••      "  '1  :  placed  tn  >leep  apart."  >;iys   tlie  ancient 

chronicle,  "  hut.  l.y  the   \ 

'  nral    aiitlmr,  uh-.se    name   is  unknown,  \\ 
'•''"'   ^  ing   the    seas   t<.  visit  his 

voluntarily    died    f,,r    her 
Deemed  \\«>ithy  .,f   th,-  rri-«.nliii^  iiiiiKf  of    Tetrarch,  \\  i 

"htainnl  the  i 
ath    which    he    doired."      W<-    have    furnished    th- 

Hi      In  QUO  <>!'  the  ancient    : 
mmon  in  the  (.',,urt  during  t: 

fctoin  jir..j.o-1-d  fi.r  diaco 

follows  :  — 

"Which    i-ontril.utrs   nio.st    powerfully  to  inspire    h.se  — 
-  tlie  heart   01  the  eyes?" 

Tlir  '  meal  \\h. 

tir  trouhadour  \\  .is  t<dd.      (  ) 
-tion,   thou-h   of    the    JM. 

all  t«.  he  found  in  tl  ;,  when, 

bocii-ty  was  not  finite 


CHAPTER    VI. 

"  (),  the  sacrifice, 

How  ceremonious,  solemn,  ami  unearthly, 
It  was  i'  the  oftVriiig." — IVintrr's  Tale. 

TIIR  ladies  had  retired,  but  midnight  still  found  a  sufficiently 
large  group  gathered  together  on  the  upper  deck,  liy  this  time 
others  of  the  party  had  added  themselves  to  the  circle  of  racon 
teurs,  and  from  one  of  these  we  obtained  another  curious  history 
from  the  pages  of  chivalric  times,  ami  the  troubadours  of  Pro 
vence.  The  narrator  assured  us  that  it  was  a  veritable  biogra 
phy. 

LOVE'S  LAST  SUPPER; 
A  TRUE  STORY  OF  THE  TROUBADOURS. 

C  H  A  P  T  K  R       . 

IN  the  first  conception  of  the  institution  of  chivalry  it  was 
doubtless  a  device  of  great  purity,  and  contemplated  none  but 
highly  proper  and  becoming  purposes.  Those  very  features 
which,  in  our  more  sophisticated  era,  seem  to  have  been  the 
most  absurd,  or  at  least  fantastic,  were,  perhaps  among  its  best 
securities.  The  sentiment  of  love,  apart  from  its  passion,  is  what 
a  very  earnest  people,  in  a  very  selfish  period, 'can  not  so  well 
understand;  but  it  was  this  very  separation  of  interests,  which 
vv  e  now  hold  to  be  inseparable,  that  constituted  the  peculiarity 
of  chivalry  —  the  fanciful  in  its  characteristics  rendering  senti 
ment  independent  of  passion,  and  refining  the  crude  desire  by 
the  exercise  and  influence  of  tastes,  which  do  not  usually  accom 
pany  it.  Among  the  Pro\en<;al  knights  and  troubadours,  in  the 
palmy  days  of  their  progress,  love  was  really  the  most  innocent 
and  the  most  elevated  of  sentiments.  It  seems  to  have  been 
nursed  without  guile,  and  was  professed,  even  when  seemingly 


in  conflict  with  tlio  rijrhts  of  «>th- 

of  wro;,Lr-d"ini:   "r  ortVnce.      It   did   not  \  •  •IIIJHM-.  «>r  im- 

]>;iir  the  marital  .securities  i.f  tlio  husl  and,  that    the   heauti* 

'ame  were  Mini:  with  enthusiasm    hy  the   ymithful  port  ;    on 

.  lie  wlm    gloried  in  tlio   possession   of  ;\  jewel,  was 

scarcely  sati-fied  witli  fortune  nnh-ss  she  hron^ht  to  a  just  knowl- 

'ors.  the   hard  who  alone   could  convey  to   the 

worl     a  simil;,  t'  the  value,  of  his  treasure.     The   narra- 

tvhich    we    have    gathered    from    the    ancient    chronicle 
.  ence,  and  which  we  take  occasion  to  say  is  drawn  from  the 
"f  history,  will   illustrate   the  correctness 
ivticuh'.rs. 

•  I'  tli'1  m»~:  remaik-.Ve  in>tancos  of  the  sentiment  of  love, 
wanned  into  pav-ion.  yet  without  evil  in  its  ohjects,  is  to  lie  found 
in  'he  HIM-  and  touchin.;  history  of  (luillaume  de  Cahestai^n.  a 
tiolde  vouth  '  ilkm.  Tln»n«rh  nol.le  of  hirth,  (Juillaunu- 

without  fortune,  ami  it  'Imuirht  imju-ojier  or  humili 

atiiiLT    in  tlm.se  thr.  .  jia^e,  the    knight 

wh<  -••  ...  known  to  liis  It  ua- 

in  thi-   cajiacity  that    he  became    th"   retainer  of  Raymond,  lo;-d 

•lissillon.     Raymond,  timujrh  a  baogfaty baron, wa*  "ne  \\h.> 

!     certain     genetOOl  I         and     sentiment-,    and    who 

.eil    liim>e!l    caj-.-ihle  of  ajiju-eciatinjr   the    talents  and    v. 

merits    of  <  iniliaii:.  '  B  inents.  in-leed, 

Were  of  a  dia  find   ready  fav««r  with    all   parties.      The 

youth  nriU  not   orJ;  ll  «>f  carriage,  and    particularly  han.l- 

:;t    lie  JM--  of  mind   and 

mani.ei    \\  ! .j;  h  especially  ron.menchMl  him  to  '  vmpathv 

and  B  j'-d  t"  that  class  of  inijirtu-ri\<itori  to 

wliMin  !!  F  Provence  ira\e  the  name  of  trouhadour,  and 

-'n^-  the  praises  of  his  niMi> 

t"  mount  :d  and  lance  in  her  de!> 

and    bonoi .       H       :      -•  .  taking   her   i.  u  n, 

was  pure  and  modr>t  in  her   hehavior  —  indul^in^  in  u«. 
:nent    \\hichwouhl    imt    i'all    heroniinjjy  on    th> 

hed    equally    hy    thei; 
and  :  1  unitrd  to  a  spirit  of  the  \\\-  \ult- 

ufe    a    taat  -implicity  and    put.' 

gentle  than  hnos.iut.  he  ITU  at  ..nee  timiil  in  app:oach,  and  JO]  - 

J.* 


62 

g   in   society;    and  while  he  compelled    r  '  <f  men 

by   his   frank   and  fearless   manhood,  he.   won   the    '  the 

other  sex  by  those  gentle  graces  which,  always  prompt  and 
ready,  are  never  obtrusive,  and  which  leave  us  only  to  the  just 
appreciation  of  their  value,  when  they  are  withdrawn  from  our 
knov. ;  1  enjoyment. 

It   happened,  unfortunately   for  our  troubadour,  that  he 
too  many  hearts.     Raised  by  the  lord  of  Roussillon  to  the  rank 
of  gentleman-usher  to  the  Lady  Marguerite,  his  young  and  beau 
tiful    wife,    t!       graces    and    accomplishments    of    fiuillaume    de 
on  became  quite  as  apparent  am'.  Ic  to  her 

as  to  the  meanest  of  the  damsels  in  tier  train.  She  was  never 
so  well  satisfied  as  in  his  society  ;  and  her  young  and  ardent 
soid,  repelled  rather  than  solicited  by  t\\?  stern  nature  of  Ray 
mond,  her  lord,  was  better  prepared  and  pleased  to  sympathize 
with  the  more  beguiling  and  accessible  spirit  of  the  page.  The 
tendered  impressions  of  love,  without  her  own  knowledge,  soon 
1  upon  lu  r  heart ;  and  she  had  learned  to  siirh  as  she  ga/ed 
upon  the  person  that  she  favored,  long  before  she  entertained 
the  slightest  consciousness  that  he  was  at  all  precious  to  hei 
.  lie  himself,  dutiful  as  devoted,  for  a  long  season  beheld 
none  of  tliese  proofs  of  favor  on  the  part  of  his  noble  mistress, 
called  him  her  servant,  it  is  true,  and  he,  as  such,  sung  daily 
in  her  praises  the  equal  language  of  the  lover  and  the  knight. 
Tliese  were  words,  however,  of  a  vague  conventional  nieaninir, 
to  which  her  husband  listened  with  indifferent  ear.  In  those 
ry  noble  lady  entertained  a  lover,  who  was  called  her 
.ant.  It  was  a  prerogative  of  nobility  that  such  .should  Le 
the  case.  It  spoke  for  the  courtliness  and  anstocracy  of  tlie. 
party;  and  to  be  without  a  lover,  though  in  the  possession  of  a 
hu.-Land,  Mas  to  he  an  object  of  scornful  sympathy  in  the  . 
of  the  sex.  Fashion,  in  other  words,  had  taken  the  nan  . 
chivalry  ;  and  it  was  one  of  her  regulations  that  the  noLle  lady 
should  possess  a  lover,  who  should  of  necessity  be  other  than 
her  lord.  In  this  capacity.  R;,\n.ond  of  Roussillon,  found  noth 
ing  of  which  to  complain  in  the  devotion  of  Guillaume  de  C; 
taign  to  Marguerite,  his  wife.  But  the  courtiers  who  gathered 
in  her  train  were  not  so  indulgent,  or  were  of  keener  yight.  They 
soon  felt  the  preference  which  she  gave,  over  all  others,  to  our 


They  felt,  and    :1  .1   if  the  mure   readily 

not    insemil  le   to  his  personal    superior!!  v.      ' 
lauii  ing  slow  in   arriving  at  a  similar 

•.  ith    a   fonder  sentiment   for  lii- 

than  was  compatiMe   with   his   security,  his  inodoty  had   i  > 
suiVered   him  to  supple  that   lie  had   been  so  fortunate  a<   to  in 
spire    her  with    a  feelii  _•    rack    U    ho    now  knew  witliin    hi:. 
It  was  at    a  moment  when  ho   h  .>  d   for  it,  that  he   ma  !o 

the  perilous  discovery.      It  \v.is  in  tin  .,jon  upon 

.  arious  signs  of  love  —  such  a  di-.  occupied  the  idle 

liours.  and  the  wandering  fancies  of  chivalry  —  that   she  said   to 
him,  somewhat  ahrnptly  — 

•  Surely  tlnui,  (iuillaumo,  thou,  who  canst  sing  of  love  so  ton- 
derly,  and  with   so  much    sv  thou,  «.f  all  IMTM-II^.  -lnuiM 

lie  the  .mo    to  ilistingui<h  hctween   a  foigno<l  ji:«<^iun   and    a  real 
Methink-  tl.  ;iim  who  loves  truly,  could  most  cor- 

•ainl;.  ;,  from    t3  :'  the    hrh-vod     >ne,  whether   the 

real  tlanu  •   hurning  in  her  heart." 

And  even  U  laiu-o  of  her  dark   and    lu>tron^ 

il   own  \\ith    Mich  a  dewy  and    «j 

that  hi-  -Mil  at  DBM  hecam.'  enlightened  with  her  The 

trouhad.iiir    was    nec»->sarily  an    it/t/'rurrt.ftifw.       (luillaume    de 

M  admitt.       •  of  tin-    m<»t    spontaneous    in 

his  utterance,  of  all  his  order.      Hi     !VM>  took    for  him  : 

which  he  c»;ildnot  well  have  usnl  at  Oiat  «>verp..wering  moment. 

Tl  |   wildly  and  triumphantly,  it,  hi-  i:c\\   ;uid  rap- 

turoi  .  ,  i-n  while    liei  ,-d    'iji-n 

him,  full  .sfiil  of  the  involuntary  declaration  which  made   the  in- 

tion    M*    hi>    long,      Th-  .  which    emhodiod    the    lir>t 

iuijiiiUivo    sentiment  which    he   ha!   t\.r   dan  d    t<»hreatho    from 

his  heart  of  the  pa»i.»n  \\hich  had    l-ng    lu-en  lurking  within    it. 

h  -en   piesrrved    lor  Dl  .alii-eK    •  :  \V.- 

tiaii-lat.'     them,    Dl  ,t    iletriment     of    their 

n    they    had    hirth,    to   our 

harsher   Runic   region.     The   song   of  (iuillaume   was  an  apes 
tropho. 

TIIU<  h  tin-  w.cping  string! 

-  nir  ; 
<i    I  ninp 
.     ••*  10* 


SOUlilWARD   HO! 

This,  dear  heart,  boli 

Won1  the  lovo  I'vo  pven, 
Half  as  worm  for  Heaven  as  thee, 

I  were  worthy  heaven  ! 

Ah  !  should  I  lament, 

That,  in  evil  hour, 
Too  much  loving  to  repent 

I  confess  thy  pow<  i. 
Too  much  blessed  to  fly, 

Yet,  with  shume  confessing, 
That  I  dread  to  meet  the  eye, 

Where  my  heart  finds  blessing. 

Such  a  poem  is  beyond  analysis.  It  was  simply  a  gush  of 
enthusiasm  —  the  lyrical  overflow  of  sentiment  ami  passion,  such 
as  a  song  should  be  always.  The  reader  will  easily  understand 
that  the  delicacy  of  the  sentiment,  the  epigrammatic  intenscness  of 
the  expression,  is  totally  lost  in  the  difficulty  of  subjugating  our 
more  stubborn  language  TO  theuscs  of  the  poet.  A  faint  and  in 
ferior  idea  of  what  was  sung  at  this  moment  of  wild  and  almost 
spasmodical  utterance,  is  all  that  we  design  to  convey. 

The  spot  in  which  this  scene  took  place  was  amid  the  depth 
of  umbrageous  trees,  in  the  beautiful  garden  of  Chateau  Koussil- 
lon.  A  soft  and  pervasive  silence  hung  suspended  in  the  at 
mosphere.  Not  a  leaf  stirred,  not  a  bird  chirruppcd  in  the  foliage  : 
and,  however  passionate  was  the  sentiment  expressed  by  the 
troubadour,  it  scarcely  POM  beyond  a  whisper  —  harmonizing  in 
the  subdued  utterance,  and  the  sweet  delicacy  of  its  sentiment 
with  the  exquisite  repose  and  languor  of  the  scene.  Carried  be 
yond  herself  by  the  emotions  of  the  moment,  the  feeling  of  Mar 
guerite  became  so  far  irresistible  that  sue  stooped  ere  the  s««ng 
of  the  troubadour  had  subsided  from  the  ear,  and  pressed  her 
lips  upon  the  forehead  of  her  kneeling  lover.  He  seixed  her 
hand  at  this  moment  and  carried  it  to  his  own  lips,  in  an  equally 
involuntary  impulse.  This  act  awakened  the  noble  lady  to  a 
just  consciousness  of  her  weakness.  She  at  once  recoiled  iV«.m 
his  grasp. 

"Alas!"  she   exclaimed,  with    clasped   hands,  "  what   have    I 

done!" 

"Ah,  lady  !"  was  the  answer  of  the  troubadour,  "it  is  thy 
goodness  which  has  at  length  discovered  how  my  heart  is  de- 


[OH . 

thy  tnitli,   and    tliy  nobleness,  dear   lady, 
which  I  love  and  wor-hip." 

ilt    thou  know   mo   over,  Gnillauino   of  < 

•  >  ;  "  ami  yet  I  warn  thee,"  she  continued, 
"I  warn   and   I   entreat    thee.  drar   servant,  that    thou   approach 

>  near   again.      Thuu  liast    shown  to  me,  and    surpri>rd 

frnin  inc.  a  mot   precious  luit  an  unhappy  secret.     Thou  lia-t 

ly  found   thy    way   into  my   heart.     Alas!    wherefore' 

mial.le  and   virtuous  woman 

:    with   tears,  as   her  innocent  soul  trembled   under 
the  roproai  hrs  ot'  her  jealous  conscience.      She  continued  — 
••  1  can  not  help  hut   love   thee,  Guillaume  of  Cabestaign,  hut 

it  >h.-ill  novei  be  said  that  tin-  love  of  the  Lady  Marguerite  of 

•  -illon  wa  'ban  became  the  wife  of  her  lord.      Thou, 

-halt    know  me.   by  love    only,  Guillaume;    but  it   shall  be 

11  work   neither  of  us  trespass.     Yet  do  not 

diou  B,  for,  of  a  truth,  dear  servant, 

dona  of  fby  heart  are  needful  to  the  life  of  mine." 

i he   troubadour   was  only  in   his  lyre.     At  all 

j-lv  lias  been  only  preserved  to  us  in  song.      It  wa* 

;n  rite  fulliios  '»i  his  joy  that  he  again  poured  forth  his  melody  : — 

Wh-'ic  si'i.-;i<l.«  tin-  pleasant  gunlrn, 

WluM-i-  l.:«i\\  tin-  pr«'ri(iu»  flowort. 
My  hnjijiy  lot  Initli  fouinl  me 

Tin-  l»ud  of  all  tin-  howrrt. 

•  tiiiini-d  it  with  a  lik> 
It«  MTV  si-It"  in  sWf.'tni-M, 

Wlii-ri-  \irtiii-  riowus  tin-  ln-nuty, 
Ami  liivi-  ln-ntnws  riinij.N-ti-n.-M. 

.in'.;.-  in  iMis.HfAtionn, 
Tli:it  liuiiil'lf  all  that  prove  h»-r, 
I  juy  in  the  aff.Ttiuiii, 

'  IIIM-  lu-r  ; 

-       l.iW, 

Ami  in  rny  ti-:  rn  I  «inp  ln-r, 

i.  r*  liidi-  away, 

Dm  r5«ht  i*  ilm-  my  homage, 

K"i   \\liih-  th.-\  «|M-uk  I 
Ti»  1  11!. .ne  fiiat  te.-l  it  wril, 

-      »  •      i   .luty. 


86  SOUTHWARD  no! 

CHAPTER    II. 

IT  does  not  appear  that  love  trespassed  in  this  instance  be 
yond  the  sweet  but  narrow  boundaries  of  sentiment.  The  lov 
ers  met  daily,  as  usual,  secretly  as  well  as  publicly,  and  their 
professions  of  attachment  were  frankly  made  in  the  hearing  of 
the  world;  but  the  vows  thus  spoken  were  not  articulated  any 
longer  .in  that  formal,  conventional  phraseology  and  manner, 
which,  in  fact,  only  mocked  the  passion  which  it  affectedly  pro 
fessed.  It  was  soon  discovered  that  the  songs  of  Guillaumo  de 
Gabestaign  were  no  longer  the  frigid  effusions  of  mere  gallantry, 
the  common  stilt  style  of  artifice  and  commonplace.  There  was 
life,  and  blood,  and  a  rare  enthusiasm  in  his  lyrics.  His  song 
was  no  longer  a  thing  of  air,  floating,  as  it  had  done,  on  the 
winglets  of  a  simple  fancy,  but  a  living  and  a  burning  soul,  borne 
upward  and  forward,  by  the  gales  of  an  intense  and  earnest  pas 
sion.  It  was  seen  that  when  the  poet  and  his  noble  mistress 
spoke  together  the  tones  of  their  voices  mutually  trembled  aa 
if  with  a  strange  and  eager  sympathy.  When  they  met,  it  was 
noted  that  their  eyes  seemed  to  dart  at  once  into  each  other, 
with  the  intensity  of  two  wedded  fires,  which  high  walls  would 
vainly  separate,  and  which,  however  sundered,  show  clearly 
that  they  will  overleap  their  bounds,  and  unite  themselves  in 
one  at  last.  Theirs  was  evidently  no  simulated  passion.  It 
wis  too  certainly  real,  as  well  in  other  eyes  as  their  own.  The 
world,  though  ignorant  of  the  mutual  purity  of  their  hearts,  was 
yet  (juick  enough  to  discern  what  were  their  real  sentiments. 
Men  saw  the  affections  of  which  they  soon  learned,  naturally 
enough,  to  conjecture  the  worst  only.  The  rage  of  rivals,  the 
jcahmsv  of  interim's,  the  spite  nf  the  envious,  tiie  malice  of  the 
wantonly  scandalous,  readily  found  cause  of  evil  where  in  real 
ity  offence  was  none.  To  conceive  the  crime,  was  to  convey 
the  cruel  suspicion,  as  a  certainty,  to  the  mind  of  him  whom  the 
supposed  offence  most  affected.  Husy  tongues  soon  assailed  tho 
ears  of  the  lord  of  Ronss'illon,  in  relation  to  his  wife.  They 
whispered  him  to  watch  '!.«•  lovers  —  to  reuur.k  the  eager  inti 
macy  of  their  eyes —  the  tremulous  sweetness  ui' their  roicef,  and 
their  subdued  tones  whene\er  they  met  —  the  frequency  of  their 
meetings  —  the  reluctance  with  which  they  separated;  and  they 


TIM 

•'i   emphasis  upon  the   pointed   ;i: 
tlic  intensity  and  ardor  of  the  sentiments  which  nmv  filled 

of  tlic  trouhadonr —  so  very  dii'.  :u  what    : 

hail  t  In  trutli.  the   new  pa*  -  lillanm' 

irronghl  wondrou-ly  in    favr   i,f  his    music.      He   who   had 

' 

of  other   poets,  had   hroken  down   all   tin  :. volition, 

rth    the    most    natural    and  original  poetry  of 

greatly  to   tin  <•  of  his   reputation  as   a  trouha- 

Ka,-m»nd    <!e    K    •  •  -'"   •     hi   :.kened    to  these,   si  -  in 

Mlrm-e,  and  with   a   gloomy  heart.      lie   loveil    his  wile  trnl\ 

'.Me    for   him  to  lo\  e.      He  |  m,  harsh 

man,  fond  of  the  cha>e,  of  the    toils    of  chivalry  rather  than  itj 
•••hi   in  his   own  emotions,  and  with   an  hit* 

e\v  impatient  nmh  >rt  of  rivalry.      It 

-.It    to  impre-s   him  with    evil    th  ven  where  lit 

had  confidence;   and  to  kindle  his   mind  with   tin 

the    iine"iisc:>'n>ly  ofi'rmlin: 
n>e<l,  the  dark,  stern  man,  ivsolved    to   aven-e  h:> 

:  and  hearing  one  day  that  (Inillanme  had  gone  oo.« 
hawking,  and  alone,  he  hastily  put  on  his  armor,  concealii  ^  u 
inu!'  iirtly  and  silken  \>  took  his  wenpoi  ,  and 

th  in  the  direction  which  the  tr<>nhadonr  had  take,,       He 
.took    the  latter  after  a  while,  np'-n  t1  ;'  a  lite'le  river 

that  wound    >lowly  thronirh    a  \\  lllanine 

app:  if  lord  without  any  mi-. 

^nothing  in  tin-  .       DO  '.id,  inspirod 

!,.ind,   and.  ]><>^]\  ly,  t!. 

ied    to    hi  •  li 

red    that  it  <t'tcii  tliar 

forth   nnattei.  !i  which    Raymond   pursued  wa« 

:hat  (Juillanme  had  taken  ;  .  an«l  \N  ith 

the  de-ire    to  find    a  solitude    in  which  he    n.i^ht    1 

:  . 

kened,  otir  t  roiihadoiir  prejiareil  to  ^uan'  'Idly 

•o.-u-lu'd    his    superior,    1.  the    tir.-t    ti.    biv  ik 

itlei 

1  \  'id,  and  alont       How  does  this  C!.'J;HU  ^ 


88  SOUTHWARD    HO ! 

"Nay,  Guillaume,"  answered  the  other,  mildly;  "I  heard 
tliat  you  were  here,  and  hawking,  and  resolved  to  share  your 
amusement.  What  has  been  your  sport?" 

"  Nothing,  my  lord.  1  have  .scarcely  seen  a  single  bird,  an'.1 
you  remember  the  proverb  —  'Who  finds  nothing,  takes  no* 
much.'  '* 

The  artlessness  and  simplicity  of  the  troubadour's  speech  and 
manner,  for  the  first  time,  inspired  some  doubts  in  the  mind  of 
Raymond,  whether  he  could  be  so  guilty  as  his  enemies  had 
reported  him.  His  purpose,  when  lie  came  forth  that  morning, 
had  been  to  ride  the  supposed  offender  down,  wherever  he  en 
countered  him,  and  to  thrust  his  boar-spear  through  his  body. 
Such  was  the  summary  justice  of  the  feudal  baron.  Milder 
thoughts  had  suddenly  possessed  him.  If  Raymond  of  lums- 
sillon  was  a  stern  man,  jealous  of  his  honor,  and  prompt  in  his 
resentment,  he  at  least  desired  to  be  a  just  man  ;  and  a  lurking 
doubt  of  the  motives  of  those  by  whom  the  troubadour  had  been 
slandered,  now  determined  him  to  proceed  more  deliberately  in 
the  work  of  justice.  He  remembered  the  former  confidence 
which  he  had  felt  in  the  fidelity  of  the  page,  and  he  was  not 
insensible  to  the  charm  of  his  society.  Every  sentence  which 
had  been  spoken  since  their  meeting  had  tended  to  make  him 
licsitMe  oei'oiv  he  hurried  to  judgment  in  a  matter  where  it  was 
scarcely  po»il>le  to  repair  the  wrong  which  a  rash  and  hasty 
>•  might  commit.  By  this  time,  they  had  entered  the 
wood  toi_v.rit<-r,  and  were  now  concealed  from  all  human  < 
The  I. --rd  i.f  Jvoussillon  alighted  from  his  horse,  and  motioned 
his  companion  to  seat  himself  beside  him  in  the  shade.  When 
boil)  were  seated,  and  alter  a  brief  pau>c,  .Raymond  addressed 
ilie  troubadour  in  the  following  language:  — 

"  Guillaume  de  Cabestaign,"  said  he,  "be  sure  I  came  not 
hither  this  day  to  talk  to  you  of  birds  and  hawking,  but  of  some 
thing  more  seriou.-.  Now,  look  upon  me,  and,  as  a  true  and 
loyal  M-rvant,  soe  that  thou  answer  honestly  to  all  that  I  shall 

ask  of  thee." 

The  troubadour  was  naturally  impressed  by  the  stern  sim 
plicity  and  solemnity  of  this  exordium.  He  was  not  unaware 
that,  as  the  knight  had  alighted  from  his  steed,  he  had  done,  so 
heavily,  :u;d  under  the  impediment  of  concealed  armor  Hii 


THI.  89 

3twhts    aii'l    I  wen-    neccs-arily    incre.r-ed    1-y 

Ifl   his    firmness.      He    felt    that    mud. 

.ml   address,  and    lie   steeled    him-<  If, 
with  ;\11  liis  .s«»ul,  to  tin1  trial  which  was  before  him.      Tin-  ; 

''  Mar;ruer!'e.  and  of  her  fate  ami  reputation  depending 
.  his  M\VM.  was  the-  source  of  no  small  >f  hi-  present 

lution.      His   reflection^-    were    instantaneous  ;    there  was   no 
•.i-onable  delav  in  his  answer,  which  was  at  once1  manlv  and 

"I    kimw    n->t    what    you    aim    at    or  intend,  my   lord,  hut  — 
•  •M  !  —  I    swear   to   you   that,  if  it  he    proper  for  me   to 
answer  you   in   that   you   -eek,  i    will    keej>    nothing  from   your 
knowledge  that  you  desire  to  know  !" 

.  rdlaume,"  replied  the  kuijrht,  "  I  will  have  no  con 
ditions.  You  shall  reply  honestly,  and  without  reserve,  to  all 
Jie  <j  i  shall  put  to  you." 

••!.>•'  me  hear  them,  my  lord  —  command  me,  as  you  have 
the  ri.irht,"  was  the  replv  of  the  troul.adour,  "and  1  will  answer 
you,  with  my  con-rirnce.  u  far  as  I  can." 

"  I  would    then    know  Iron:  -ponded    Raymond,  very 

solemnly,  "on  your  faith  and  hy  your  (iod.  whether  the  verses 
that  you  make  are  inspired  hy  a  r--al  pa--! 

A  \\arm  llu-h  pa.-sed  over  the  cheid<.-  of  the  trouhadour;    the 
jir'nU-  of  the  artist  was  oil'ended   hy  the  inquiry.      That  i*  -hould 
•!oned  whether    he    really   felt  u  hat    he    M    p.. - 

a  disparaging   judgment    upon  the  merits  of  his 

"  Ah  !  i:iV  lord,"  wa.-;  I  lie  ivplv.  e\]>ressed  with  some  decree 
ot  nioi'i!'.  !iow  could  I  sin^as  I  do,  unless  I  really  felt 

all  the   pa-vion  v.  hich    I  derlar.  .       In  ';  .then.  I   tell  you, 

nV    -oul." 

;    verily    I     helieve    t lire,  ( JuiUauine."  \\ ..  '.fined 

:    the  haron  ;    ••  1  heli«-ve   thee,  my   friend,  for,  unless  a 

leal    j-.-i-.-iim  was  at  his  In-art,  no   trouhadour  could    OVCI  ^ing  E8 

Hut.  -  'laume   •!. 

Triti  Line    of  the  lady  \\  horn   thy 

Then  it   \\.-i-  that  t!.  .    j'.-i1".  and 

:k  within  him  ;    hn;  be  '•  .ir  >n 


iii\v.\!;i)  no! 

was   upon  him.     He  hnd   no  moment   for  hesitation.     To   falter 
now,  he  was  well   assured,  N\;.S   to   forfeit    love,  life,  and    t-\ 
tiling  that  was  proud  and  precious  in  his  sight.     In  the  moi 
of  exigency  the  troubadour  found  his  answer.      It  was  e\v> 
but  adroitly  conceived  and  expressed. 

"  Xay,  my  lord,  will  it  please  you  to  consider?  I  appeal  to 
your  own  heart  and  honor  —  can  any  one,  without  perfidy,  de 
clare  such  a  secret?  —  reveal  a  thing  that  involves  the  i! 
and  the  reputation  of  another,  and  that  other  a  lady  of  good 
fame  and  i|uality  '?  "Well  mu>t  you  remember  what  is  said  on 
this  subject  by  the  v.  r  of  our  art  —  no  less  a  person 

than  the,  excellent  Bernard  de  Ventadour.     He  should  know  — 
what,  says  he  ?" 

The  baron  remained  silent,  while  Gnillaume  repealed  the  fol 
lowing  verses  of  the  popular  troubadour,  whose  authority  he 
appealed  to :  — 

"  The  spy  your  secret  still  would  drum 
And  usks  to  know  your  lady's  name 
But  tell  it  not  for  very  ahume ! 

"  Tho  loyal  lover  goes  the  snare, 
And  neither  to  the  waves  nor  air 

!><•:  id  of  his  lair. 

"  The  duty  that  to  Irve  we  owe, 
Is,  whil.-  In  her  we  ,tll  may  show, 
On  others  nothing  to  i 

Th.ugh   seemingly  well  adapted    to   his  object.  *.he  quo: 
of  uur  trmibad-Mir  was  unfortunate.     There  were  yet  other  ve. 
to  this  instructive  ditty,  and   the  Baron  of  Ron^illon,  who   had 
listened  very  patiently  as   his  companion  recited   the.  preceding, 
proved  himself  to  have  a  memory  for  g^od   songs,  though 
he  never   pretended    to    make    them    hiniM-lf.      "When  (Jnilia-; 
had    iairly  lini.shed,  he    took    up   the    strain   -\fler  a  brief  intro 
duction. 

"  'i'hat  is  all  very  right  and  very  propr/,  Guillaume,  and  I 
gainsay  not  a  pliable  that  blaster  Bei-iHi\l  hath  written;  nay, 
rnethinks  my  proper  aiiM>  ei  to  thce  lietl-  i:i  another  of  his  versos, 
which  thou  shoQldsl  n«.t  !,.;  •  •.••!  ,\-liile  i-emindin.L'  n: 

its  companions.      1  shall  rt-fr  -»    ''  ;•    -I'.mory  with   the  next  I 


Tin:   i."  •  ' 

follow-"      And  wit!:  .at  waiting    ' 

1  to  rep,  "'lit 

This  remark  (iuilh. 

dc  (  ,  co-.  M    not   forbear  leaking  to   himself,  though    he 

-•/KMi'     -l  the  same  time  that  the  utterance  of  the  1 

,;.rly    slo\\     and    siihdm  I  that 

B  a  whisper,  and  which  were  timed  as  if  every 

bad  ami  BpeUed,aN  it  *  led  to  exp. 

1'he  rent  was  as  follows:  — 

••  \\  ,•  \i.  l.i  h«T  iiiiiiif  to  ti 

,  wli.-n  tli<-  swrp-.l  truth  is  shewn, 
i.,-l[i  to  rn:ik.    tin-  TiKii-l  "iir  own  " 

"Now,  methinks."  continued    the    haron,  "here-  lieth  the 
dom  of  my  .piot.      Who   l,ett--r  than  myself  can  help  to  NCttTO 
thee  thy  «ie.-i:  mote  th\  tor  thee   the 

Tell  me,  then.  I    command  thee,  Cuilh. 
and  1  promise  to  help  thee  with  my  best  efforts  and  ad- 

II.  .    <lilemma.      The    troubailonr  was    foiled  with 

own  weapons.      The  quotation   t  -wn  authority  was  con 

:  him.     The  argument  of  Raymond  v.  -'.hie. 

.•r\v  the   young  lover  there  could  he 

tion  ;    ami  as  little   could    the   latter  doubt   the    re..  that 

.-sinning  his  pursuit  to  be  a  proper  one  —  to  which 

he    had    been    so    long    indebted    for   favor  and    protection.      He 

cou]  himself  by  no  further  evasion  ;    ami.  having  admit- 

•hat  he  really  and  deeply  loved,  and  that  his  \> 

id    living  "    absoln;. 

our    troubadour,  unless    he  would    confirm  t1..:  avid< 
of  his  lord,  should    promptly  find    for  her  a   Q4Utt         He    «iiil   80. 
'I'!,,.  justify  a  fal-  ami,  with    linn 

acc(.          i  ,  ;ple    to    decdare  hii. 

h,.a,  .1.  to    the    beautiful    Lady   A.  ,  the 

.  ,    of   Marguerite,  his  leal   n. 

uaymond.  and   in  0  nder  applieat 

aiitted  himstdf  to  ' 

:ilg   Mllile 
hap,  I'.uu'ied.       Oui 

line  of  this  lady.  OT6I    all    othi-i 
He    believed    that    sh.  '•    tke 


92  SOUTHWARD    IK)  ! 

M:iitual  flame  which  exi.-te  •  •  .'tween  biniM-lf  and  her  sister; 
and  he  had  long  been  coi,-<-i./vi  of  that  benevolence  of  temper 
which  the  former  possessed,  an-!  which  he  loudly  thought  would 
prompt  her  in  some  degree  to  sympathize  with  Sim  in  hi.,  n. 
sity,  and  lend  herself  somewhat  to  his  own  and  the  extrication 
of  Marguerite.  After  making  hih  confession,  he  concluded  by 
imploring  Raymond  to  approach  his  object  cautiously,  and  hv 
no  means  to  peril  his  fortunes  in  the  esteem  of  the  lady  he 
professed  to  love. 

CHAPTER     III. 

BUT  the  difficulties  of  Guillaume  de  Cabcstaign  wen-  nnl\ 
MIL  It  was  not  the  policy  of  Raymond  to  be  satisfied  with 
liis  simple  asseverations.  The  suspicions  which  had  been  awa 
kened  in  his  mind  by  the  malignant  suggestions  of  his  courtiers, 
were  too  deeply  and  skilfully  infixed  there,  to  suffer  him  to  be 
soothed  by  the  mere  statement  of  the  supposed  ofi'cnder.  He 
required  something  of  a  confirmatory  character  from  the  lips  of 
Lady  Agnes  herself.  Pleased,  nevertheless,  at  what  he  had 
heard,  and  at  the  readiness  and  seeming  frankness  with  wliich 
the  troubadour  had  finally  yielded  his  secret  to  his  keeping,  in1 
rly  assured  the  latter  of  his  assistance  in  the  prosecution  of 
his  quest;  and  he,  who  a  moment  before  had  coolly  contem 
plated  a  deliberate  murder  to  revenge  a  supposed  wrong  to  his 
oun  honor,  did  not  now  scruple  to  profess  his  willingness  to  aid 
his  coir.p,i7;i;;n  in  compassing  the  dishonor  of  another.  It  did 
not  matter  much  to  our  sullen  baron  that  the  victim  was  the 
ter  of  his  own  wife.  The  human  nature  of  Lord  Raymond,  of 
Roiissillou,  his  own  diguifj-  uninjured,  had  but  little  sympathy 
with  his  neighbor's  righ*>-  and  sensibilities,  lie  promptly  pro- 
<!,  at  that  very  moment,  to  proceed  on  his  charitable  mis 
sion.  The  castle  of  Tarrascon  was  insight;  and,  pointing  i> 
its  turrets  that  rose  loftily  above  the  distant  hills,  the  impe: 
finger  of  Raymond  gave  the  direction  to  our  troubadour,  which 
he  shuddered  to  pursue,  but.  did  not  dare  to  decline.  He  n<  \v 
began  to  feel  all  the  dangers  and  embarrassments  which  he  W;H 
about  to  encounter,  and  to  tremble  at  the  disgrace,  and  ruin 
which  seemed  to  rise,  threatening  and  dead  before  him.  "N 
\va>  \\oman  more  virtuous  than  the,  lady  Allies.  (Jeutle  and 


QUICK  OMAN, 

•ifiil,  like    IHM-  BlStei    Marguerite,   her    reputation   had    1 

fortunate  in  escaping  wholly  the  assaults  «»f  tlic  maligllHUt, 

had    alwavs    >l<own  an  affectionate  indulgence    f.tr  our  trou- 

iir.  .iiid  a  delighted  interest  in  liis  various  accomplishm,  ut>  ; 

and  lie  ii"\\-  remembered    all    her  ^oodness  ami  kindness  only  to 

ft    himself,  in    :  .for   tin*   treachery  of   which  lie    1-nd 

•   •     en  guilty.      His  remorse  at  what  lie  had  said  to  Raymond 

H0l  tin-  1.  ami   distressinir,  from  the  conviction  that 

•  It  that  there  had  been  no  other  way  left  liim  of  escape  from 
':!e:nma. 

We  are  bound  to  hclieve  that  the  eagerness  \\lii.-Ji  Raymond, 
;!on.  now  exhibited  was  not  so  much  beraUM-  of  a  •!• 
.•ihoiit  the  dishonor  of  another.  ;i-   to  he  jieileL'tly  satis- 
iliat    he   ImnM'lf   was  froo.    from    injury.      At    the   castle   of 
.  •;.     I       j     A_  -..->   was  fouinl    alone.     She   <?ave    the 
kindest  n-cejiiivMi  to  her  guests;    and,  anxious   to   behold   tl 

.nediurn  of  liis  wishes   rather  than    his   doubts  and 
Miiond  fancied  that  there  MTU  a  {tecnliar  sort  of  tender- 
in    the    tone  and    spirit    of   the  compliments  which    she    ad- 
ed  to  the  dejected  troubadour.     That  he  was  disquieted  and 
,    able  to  discover.      His   :inea*ine>s   made 

If  apparent    bet'-ie    they    had    been    hm^   together;    ami    the 

in:(  ili-ence   of   the   feminine    mind  -rdin^ly    yery 

d  to  comprehend  tl  •  D  of  his  dixjuiet.  when. 

:  ivmond  at  the  earliest  opportunity,  she    found 

.,:ned    by   the    impatient   baron    on   the    nature 

nnd  •    her  own  aflecti.Mis.      A  L'hmee  «>!'  t|M.  ,,y,,  at  (Juil- 

laun.  -  >he  livt.-iied  to  the  iiujiunes  .»t 

i.  !.  reT««l*d  to  the  «fiiick-witte.l  wom.M,  %he  extent 

MS.  and  ]ios^ibly  the  danger  of  he.  lister,      Her 

r,    and    equally    prompt    beneyolence    of    heart,    at 

11  the  answers  of  the  lady. 

"  Why  (|ue>tion  me  of  lover-  .'"   sin-  replied  to  Raymond,  with 

<|uerulonsn»-.s  of  tone  and  manner;    "certainly  I    have 

lovers  enow  —  as  many  a-  I   choose  to  have.      Would  you  that   I 

•;!.!  !>ve  unlike  other  women  of  birth  and  quality,  without  my 

ant    to   sinur    my  p:  his   readine>s  to  di-  in 

my  behalf?" 

•  A\      .i\.    mv    la«!'  "red    the    knight,   "lovei>    I    well 


SOUTH  AVAR]     tt<»! 


y  -  :   f»r  of  ibrse  1  trow  that  no  lady  of  rank  and 

beauty,  sucli  as  \  or  :>o^:bly  should  bo  without  ;  —  but 

is  there  not  one  lover,  over  all,  whom  yon  not  only  e-ieem  for 
his  grace  and  service,  but  for  whom  you  fee.l  the  tenderest  inter 
rst  —  to  wbom,  in  fact,  you  prefer  the  full  surrender  of  your 
whole  heart,  and,  were  this  possible  or  proper,  of  your  whole 
i  t'rson  ?" 

F-.r  a  moment  the  gentle  lady  hesitated  in  her  answer.  The 
question  was  one  of  a  kind  to  startle  a  delicate  and  faithful 
spirit.  But,  .is  :-r  eyes  wandered  ofT  to  the  place  when-  the 
troubadour  stood  trembling  —  as  she  detected  the  pleading  ter 
ror  that  was  .-.j.parent  in  his  face  —  her  benevolence  got  the 
better  of  her  scruples,  and  she  frankly  admitted  that  there  reallv 
was  one  person  in  the  world  for  whom  her  sentiments  were  even 
thus  lively,  and  her  sympathies  thus  warm  and  active. 

"  And  now,  I  beseech  you,  Lady  Agnes,"  urged  the  anxious 
n,  "  that  you  deal  with  me  like  a  brother  who  will  joy  to 
8  you,  and  declare  to  me  the  name  of  the  person  whom  yor, 
much  favor." 

"Now,  out  upon  it,  my  lord  of  Roussillon,"  was  the  quick 
and  somewhat  indignant  reply  of  the  lady,  "that  you  should 
.'.me  thus  greatly  upon  the  kindred  that  lies  between  us. 
men  are  nut  to  be  constrained  to  make  such  confession  as 
this.  It  is  their  prerogative  to  be  silent  when  the  safety  of 
their  affections  may  suffer  from  their  speech.  To  urge  them  to 
confess,  in  such  cases,  is  only  to  compel  them  to  speak  unneces 
sary  falsehoods.  And  know  I  not  you  husbands  all  ?  you  have 
but  a  feeling  in  common  ;  and  if  I  reveal  myself  to  you,  it  were 
as  w<  -i!  T'.  •;,;  J  ^hould  go  at  cnce  and  make  full  confession  to  my 
own  lord." 

'  Nay,  dearest  Lady  Agnes,  have  no  such  doubt  of  my  loyalty 

I  will  assure  thee  that  what  you  tell  me  never  finds  it  way  to 

the  ear  of  your  lord.     I  pray  thee  do  not  fear  to  make  this  COM- 

t'ewiOE  to  n.e  ;   nay,  but  thou  must,  Agnes,"  exclaimed  the  nuh 

M,  his  voice  rising  more  earnestly,  and  his  manner  becoming 

•nate  and  stern   whiu,  he  grasped   her  wrist  firmly  in  his 

convulsive  fingers,  and,  drawing  her  toward    him,  added"  in    the 

suldued    but    intense    tones  of  Lilf-suppn^sed    passion.  "  I    tell 

ll"'''  -h  to  know  this  secret." 


Tho   lady  did    n,.t    imniediat-dy  yield,  though    tho   manner  of 
•noii'l.    fi>  m    tliis    in    men!.    ''•  t  i  tnil  ould 

>.      She   i  .'hired    all  tin 

telt  tin1  i  the  trouhadour  for  th<- 

I»;it  -he  played  with  the  . 
when  hi-  Mpatient  ; 

1,  she   admitted,  a-  a  ni"-t 
':•.£  only  that  lu»  mi..  lu-r  i:i  its  ^ratilii-atutn,  that 

ft  burning  paanon  for  Guillauoie  i     •  .  "f  wliich 

l;c  hiii;  i-nis. 

•:!i|»t   ami  a<   it* 

Or    had    whisju'i'i'd    at    i  .      lia\-iiuuid 

Bed.      lit-  ITU   rc!ic\-cd    ,•!'  his    sii>- iei"n>,  turned  .-, 
I       y  of  '1'an-asriin.  to  cMiihraiM-  IHT  >ujijmsi'd  lover,  and 

'  >riiicr.  !'<•!•   himself  and 

con';  an  that  ni-ht  to  suiijier.    At  that  monient  the 

thn.u  n    "|iei!,  and  the    '.  Tar- 

ii  ;;ia<!e  his  ajijiearance.       He    COnfif] 

t"  lii  I  :i  I'j.jiortiinity  offorcMl,  and  1  < 

hour  of  supper  arrive.:  ';raw 

'.-.rd   to   her   own    apartments,  and  there  fianki\  !  to 

all  that  had  taken    jilae-v       H«-        rdiallj     [   -     •    bifl    Sanctiou 

k«    had  «i.  sas  much 

than  his   '  •  r  ;    and  the  M  mpa' 

be    nohle   am!    the  virtuous,  in  tl 
B  u  lio  proi 

•!iat  of  tl, 
:he  tr-iulia«!iiur.      'I 

.1  hrutal  nature,  \\hich, 
»»  t!.'  u-oiild   a! 

;.:\alry    had    e-taM 
:  -hie  intei 

in  hehalf  «J   t!ie  tnuil-;.  g  tlie 

«,  thr.M-  several  [»  •    down    to    .-upper    in    t 

,ad  harm 

all  )'  with  it  h 

unprov \ i 


96  SOUTH \v.\iii>  no! 

pauy —  all  in  favor  of  the  Lady  Agnes,  and  glimpsing  faintly  at 
bis  attachment  for  her.  These,  unhappily,  have  not  been  pre 
served  to  us.  They  arc  sakl  to  have  been  so  made  as  to  corre 
spond  to  the  exigency  of  his  recent  situation;  the  excellent 
r.anui  Raymond  all  the  while  supposing  that  he  alone  possessed 
the  key  to  their  meaning.  The  Lady  Agnes,  meanwhile,  under 
the  approving  eye  of  her  husband,  was  at  special  pains  to  show 
such  an  interest  in  the  troubadour,  and  such  a  preference  for  his 
comfort,  over  that  of  all  persons  present,  as  contributed  to  con 
firm  all  the  assurances  she  had  given  to  her  brother-in-law  in 
regard  to  her  affections.  The  latter  saw  this  with  perfect  satis 
faction  ;  and  leaving  Guillaume  to  pass  the  night  where  he  was  so 
happily  entertained,  he  hurried  home  to  Roupsiilon.  »;ager  to  re 
veal  to  his  own  wife,  the  intrigue  between  her  lover  ;»ml  her  sister 
It  is  quite  possible  that,  if  his  suspicions  of  the.  troubadour  were 
quieted,  he  still  entertained  some  with  regard  tc  Marguerite.  It 
is  not  improbable  that  a  conviction  that  be  was  giving  pain  at 
every  syllable  he  uttered  entered  into  his  calculations,  and 
prompted  what  be  >aid.  lie  might  be  persuaded  of  the  inno 
cence  of  the  parties,  yet  doubtful  of  their  affections  ;  and  though 
assured  now  that  be  was  mistaken  in  respect  to  the  tendency  of 
tli.-se  of  Guillanme,  his  suspicions  were  still  lively  in  regard 
to  those  of  his  wife.  His  present  revelations  might  be  intended 
to  probe  her  to  the  quick,  and  to  gather  from  her  emotions,  at 
bis  recital,  in  how  much  she  was  interested  in  the  sympathies  of 
the  troubadour. 

How  far  he  succeeded  in  diving  into  her  secret,  has  not  been 
confided  to  the,  chronicler.      It  is  very  certain,  however,  that   he 
succeeded   in   making  Marguerite  very  unhappy.     She  now  en 
tertained  no  doubt,  after  her  husband's  recita!.  «f  <!:e   treac 
of  her   sister,  and    the,   infidelity  of  her  lover;   and   though   she 

herself  bad  permittee]  him  no  privilege,  inconsistent  v, irh  the 
claims  of  her  lord,  she  was  yet  indignant  that  lie  should  have 
proved  unfaithful  to  a  heart  which  he  so  well  knew  '•>  be  thor 
oughly  his  o\vi;.  The  pure  soul  itself,  entirely  devoted  to  the 
beloved  .-bje.ct,  thus  always  revolts  at  the  consciousness  of  ite 
fall  from  its  purity  and  its  pledges  ;  and  though  itself  denied  — 
doomed  only  to  a  secret  worship,  to  which  no  altar  may  be  raised, 
and  to  which  there  is  no  offering  but  the  sacrifice  of  constant  pri- 


iN<  ILI.niO.N'.  07 

:i  \  ot  it  greatly  prefeis  t-«  entertain  tliis  sacred  sense  of 
isolation,  to  anv  enjoyment  of  mere  mortal  happiness.  To 
that  «>ur  affections  are  thus  isolated  in  vain — that  wo  have  yielded 
them  t«»  one  who  is  indifferent  to  the  trust,  and  lives  still  tor  his 
earthly  passions —  is  to  Miller  iVoin  a  more  than  mortal  depriva 
tion.  Margin -.'•-•  •  li-.ussillon  passed  the  night  in  extreme  ag 
ony  ot'  mind,  the  misery  of  which  was  greatly  aggravated  hy  the 
.  in  her  husband's  presence,  of  suppressing  every  feel 
ing  of  u:  But  her  feelings  could  not  always  he  sup- 
pivsM-d  ;  and  \\hen.  the  next  day,  on  the  return  of  the  trouba 
dour  from  TaiTa>con.  she  encountered  him  in  those  garden  walks 
which  had  heen  made  ^acred  to  their  passion  by  its  first  mutual 
revelation,  the  pang  grew  to  utterance,  which  her  sense  of  dig 
nity  and  propriety  in  vain  endeavored  to  subdue.  Her  eyes 
hiightened  indignantly  through  her  tears;  and  she  whose  virtue 
had  withhold  every  gift  of  passion  from  the  being  whom  sh< 

to  love,  at  once,  but  still  most  tenderly,  reproached 
h  in  with  his  infidelity. 

Urns  I  Guillaume,"  she  continued,  after  telling  him  all  that 
had  heard,  "  alas  !  that  my  soul  should  have  so  singled  thine 
(lit  from  all  the  rest,  because  of  its  purity,  and  should  find  thee 
thus,  like  all  the  rest,  incapable  of  a  sweet  and  holy  love  such 
as  thou  didst  promise.  I  had  rather  died,  Guillaume,  a  thou- 
•<and  deaths,  than  that  thou  shouldst  have  fallen  from  thy  faith 

to  me." 

"Hut    I    have    not    fallen — I    have   not   faltered  in  my  faith, 
Ma..  in    still    true   to    thee  —  to  thee  only,  thoi; 

for  thee  \ain!y.  and  know  that  thou  livest  only  for  another 
ii.  ;:  me,  Marguerite,  while  I  tell  thee  what  has  truly  hap 
peneil.  Thou  hast  heard  Munething  truly,  but  not  all  the  truth.' 

And  he  proceeded  with  the  narrative  to  which  we  have 
already  likened.  He,  had  only  to  show  her  what  had  pa>sed 
between  her  lord  and  himwlf,  to  show  how  great  had  heen  his 
emergem-y.  The  -ul-e.nieiit  events  at  Tarrascon,  only  con 
vinced  her  of  the  quick  intelligence,  and  sweet  benevolence  of 
purpose  by  which  her  sister  had  been  governed.  Her  chant* 
ble  sympathies  had  >reii  and  favored  the  artifice  in  which  lay  the 
jiiallv  of  her  lover  and  herself.  The  revulsion  of  hei 
feelings  from  grief  to  exultation.  sp"ki-  in  a  gu>h  ot  tears,  which 


D8  SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 

relieved  tlie  distresses  of  her  soul.  The  single  kiss  upon  hij 
forem'ad,  with  which  she  rewarded  the  devotion  cf  the  trouba 
dour,  inspired  his  fancy,  lie  made  the  event  the  subject  of  tlu» 
sonnet,  which  has  fortunately  been  preserved  to  us;  — 

MAKGfKKITK. 

"That  there  should  be  a  question  whom  I  love, 

As  if  the  world  hail  more  than  one  so  fair? 

\VonliVgt  knmc  her  nfime,  brhold  (he.  letters  rare, 
God-written,  on  the  icing  of  every  dove  ! 
Ask  if  a  blindness  darkens  my  fond  eyes, 

That  1  should  doubt  me  whither  1  should  turn; 
Ask  if  my  soul,  in  cold  abeyance  lies, 

That  I  should  fail  at  sight  of  her  to  burn. 
That  I  should  wander  to  another's  sway,     ' 

Would  speak  a  blindness  worse  than  that  of  sight, 

Since  here,  though  nothing  I  may  ask  of  right, 
Blessings  most  precious  woo  my  heart  to  stay. 

High  my  ambition,  since  at  heaven  it  aims, 

Yet  humble,  since  a  daisy  '*  all  it  claims." 

The  lines  first  italicised  embody  the  name  of  the  lady,  by  a 
periphrasis  known  to  the  Provencal  dialect,  and  the  name  of  the 
daisy,  as  used  in  the  closing  line,  is  Marguerite.  The  poem 
is  an  unequivocal  declaration  of  attachment,  obviously  meant  to 
do  away  with  all  adverse  declarations.  To  those  acquainted 
with  the  previous  history,  it  unfolds  another  history  quite  a? 
significant;  and  to  those  who  knew  nothing  of  the  purity  of  the 
parties,  one  who  made  no  allowance  for  the  exaggerated  manner 
in  which  a  troubadour  would  be  apt  to  declare  the  privileges  he 
had  enjoyed,  it  would  convey  the  idea  of  a  triumph  inconsistent 
with  the  innocence  of  the  lovers,  and  destructive  of  the  rights 
of  the  injured  husband. 

Thus,  full  of  meaning,  it  is  difficult  to  conceive  by  what  im 
prudence  of  the  parties,  this  fatal  sonnet  found  its  way  to  the 
hands  of  Raymond  of  Roussillon.  It  is  charged  by  the  biogra 
phers,  in  the  absence  of  other  proofs,  that  the  vanity  of  Margue 
rite,  in  her  moments  of  exultation  —  greater  than  her  passion  — 
proud  of  the  homage  which  she  inspired,  and  confident  in  the  inno 
cence  which  the  world  had  too  slanderously  already  begun  to  que>- 
tion  —  could  not  forbear  the  temptation  of  .showing  so  beautiful  a 
testimony  of  the  power  of  her  charms.  But  the  suggestion  lacks 
iu  plausibility.  It  is  more  .  <u. ,-eive  that  the  fond  heart 


Til  i  ABLKT.  99 

of  tho  \\  cqoiiitc   a 

tribute,  and  that  tho  j-  f  her  h-rd.  provoked  l.y  th< 

meted   him    to    the    place   <>f  safe  keeping 

II  treasure  was   concealed.      At    all    events,    it    fell    into 

1    all   Ins   suspicions.      In  fact,  it  gave  the 

:'ful   story  by  which   he   had   heen  lulled  into  eonti- 

us,  in  a  manner,  conclu-ive  of  the   utter  guilt 

His  pri  I  as  well  as  his  honor.     II  • 

v  all  upon  uhoin  he  had  relied  —  his  \\il'.-. 
••.and  his  >;>ter.     He  no  lunger  d.>ul>trd  Marguerite's  infidel- 
:id  his  own  dll  :id,  breathing  nothing  hut  vengeance 

he  \  frmn   all   persons  tho,   conviction 

it  he  felt.  ;ilt  which  dishonoretl  him,  and  the  terrible 

>•  which  he  meditated  for  its  punishment.    He  was  a  cold- 
and  'an,  who   could    suppre>s.  in  most  cases,  the  j 

!i  he  felt,  and  could  deliherately  re.-t rain  tin1  pav-i.ms  which 

.'.umphant  }>lace  in  his  heait  and  purpose. 

It  was   not   long    lu-f.>iv    he    found    th-  n  which  he  de- 

:  iovements  of  the  troubadour  were  closely  watched, 
when  he  had  wandered  forth  from  th-  -eek- 

-olitude,  as  was   his    fre<juent   habit,  Raymond    coi. 

iy  ficm   ol.MTvatinn,  and  to  follow  him  out  into  the  for- 
II       .-  :ul    in    bis    que-t.       He    found    Guillaume. 

;    of    a    >ha'iy    tree,   in    a    secluded   glen,  with 
bi>   tablets   hef  .rr    him.      Th.-   outlines  of  a    tender    ballad,  I 
der  hut  spiritual,  a  r   of  all    his  nielo«'.' 

;ihrady  inscribed  upon  the  paper.      The  j  meditating,  as 

u>ual,  th.  whose,  beauty 

COme  his  bane.      Raymond  threw  himself  upon 
gr»uii  him. 

Mi!  \\rll,"  said  he,  as   ho  joined   the   troubadour,  "this  1 
I  is  still  a  di>tre>-ing  matter  in  thy  tlmu-: 
11  In  truth,  my  lord,  I  think  of  her  with  the  greatest  love  ami 

"  Verily,  tlmu  dot  well,"  returned  the  baron  ;    "  .  V68 

:al  at  thy  hands.     Thou  owest   h  .     •        A 

trth  a  la«i\,  .-snd  \\ho  hath   found  80 

much  favor  in  her  'hinks  th  •    her    but  seldom 

Why  is  thia,  :- 


100  SOUTHWARD  HO  ! 

Without  waiting  for  the  answer,  Raymond  added,  "But  let 
me  see  what  thou  hast  just  written  in  her  praise.  It  is  by  his 
verses  that  we  understand  the  devotion  of  the  troubadour." 

Leaning  over  the  poet  as  he  spoke,  as  if  his  purpose  had  been 
to  possess  himself  of  his  tablets  he  suddenly  threw  the  whole 
weight  of  his  person  upon  him,  and,  in  the  very  same  moment, 
by  a  quick  movement  of  the  hand,  he  drove  the  contain  Jr. 
<7/f<-.v.\r,  with  which  he  was  armed,  and  which  he  had  hitherto 
concealed  behind  him,  with  a  swift,  unerring  stroke  deep  down 
into  the  bosom  of  the  victim.  Never  was  blow  better  aimed,  or 
with  more  energy  delivered.  The  moment  of  danger  was  that 
of  death.  The  unfortunate  troubadour  was  conscious  of  the 
weapon  only  when  he  felt  the  steel.  It  was  with  a  playful 
smile  that  Raymond  struck,  and  so  innocent  was  the  expression 
of  his  lace,  even  while  his  arm  was  extended  and  the  weight  <>f 
his  body  was  pressing  upon  Guillaume,  that  the  only  solicitude. 
of  the  latter  had  been  to  conceal  his  tablets.  One  convulsive 
cry,  one  hideous  contortion,  and  Guillaume  de  Cabestaipi  was 
no  more.  The  name  of  Marguerite  was  the  only  word  which 
escaped  in  his  dying  shriek.  The  murderer  placed  his  hand 
upon  the  heart  of  the  victim.  It  had  already  ceased  to  beat. 

CHAPTER    IV. 

"Thou  wilt  mock  me  no  more!"  he  muttered  fieicely,  as  he 
half  rose  from  the  body  now  stiffening  fast.  But  his  fierce  ven 
geance  was  by  no  means  completed.  As  if  a  new  suggestion 
had  seized  upon  his  mind,  while  his  hand  rested  upon  the  heart 
of  the  troubadour,  he  suddenly  started  and  tore  away  the  gar 
ments  from  the  unconscious  bosom.  Once  more  he  struck  it 
devply  with  the  keen  and  heavy  blade.  In  a  few  moments  lie 
had  laid  it  open.  Then  he  plunged  his  naked  hand  into  the 
gaping  wound,  and  tore  out  the  still  quivering  heart.  This  he 
wrapped  up  with  care  and  concealed  in  his  garments.  With  an 
other  stroke  he  smote  the  head  from  the  body,  and  this  lie  also 
.tied,  in  fragments  of  dress  torn  from  the  person  of  his  victim. 
With  tlir.-c  proofs  of  his  terrible  revenge,  he  made  his  way,  un 
der  cover  of  the  dusk,  in  secret  to  the  castle.  What  remains  to  be 
told  is  still  more  dreadful  —  beyond  belief,  indeed,  were  it  not  that 


THK 


lf)J 


the  sources  of  our   history  an-  wholl\  -lit  or  denial 

Tin*  cnu-1  Won,  ordering  his  cook  i..to  his    pre>ence,  then    . 
Uiv'  heart  of  the  troiihadour  into  his  keeping,  with  instruct!.'! 

it  richly,  ami  after  a  manner  «.f  dre-:ng  certain  favorif 
porting  of  venison,  of  which  Margu"rite  was  known  to  he  j  ar 
ticularlv  foiul.  The  dish  was  a  suhject  of  .special  solicitude  will 
\ushand.  He  liini>elf  superintended  the  preparation,  »jt 
furnislie.l  the  BplOOa.  That  night,  lie  heing  her  only  companlm 
at  t!  •  ved  up  to  his  wife  at  the  usual  til: 

supper.       lie    had    assiduously  suhdued    even 
tinkindness,  or  .-uspicion,  from  his  countenance.      Marguerite  w.-u 
suffered   to  hear  and   see   nothing  which  might   provoke  her  ap- 
prehenson*  or  anv.-t  her  appetite.      She  was  more  than   usually 
tte    and    cheerful,    as,    that   day   ami    evening,    her  lord   was 
than    commonly   indulgent.       He,    too,   could    play   a    part 
uh,.:  |  him    to  do   SO]   and,  like    nmst    men    of  stern  will 

:m,i  ice,  c  "iihi  adapt  his  niouds  and  manners  to  that 

live!  ind  limn-  pliant  temper,  which  hetter  jiersuade  the 

feminine  heart    into   confidence  and  pleasure,      He    Smiled    upon 
her  now  with  the  nio^t  heiievolent  N  |    hut  while  h-  ear 

lier  t.i  partaki-  ..f  the  favorite  n-past  which  she 
,'ich  pieferred.  he  himself  might  he  M-en  t«.  eat  of  any  other 
di>h.      The  wretclu-.l  woman,  totally  uiiMi-picions  of  guile  or  evil, 
undreaming   of  disaster,   and    really  COnacioUfl  of  hut    little   s(df- 
,,.pi  !reel\    of  the  jirrri-.us  meat  which  had  heen  jilaci-d 

;t.    llrr.       The    r  \  .  ]',     \iuond    gre.-.lily    followed    . 

bei  lipt.      She  evidently  enjoyed  the 

which  had  heen  spiced  for  her  hem-lit,  and  as  >h«-  continued 
to  draw  upon  it,  he  could  no  h.i  (r  to  unfold  the  exulta- 

•„  hirli  he  felt  at  the  entire  ,-atistact  inn  of  1  .nice. 

:n  very  much  to  like  your  meats  :  lerite. 

1  i      .      ,  find  them  good  ?" 

••  \'elil\,"   >he  an.-\\eled,  "llii-   velii>  Hy   delic. 

then,"  he    Continued.  ••  1    haVC  had  it  dres>ed    piu  , 
.        fov        -lit  to  like  it.       It  i>  a  dish  of  which   you  have 
alwav>  .shown  yiuirsi-lf  \«-ry  fond." 

v  lord,  hnl   you  Mirely  err.       1    can  not    think    that    I 
h,Ut  licioiis  n> 

••Nay,  nay,  Marguerite,  it  is  you  that   err.      1   knuic  that  thi 


102  SOUTH  WAKI)    HO! 

meat  of  which  you  now  partake,  is  one  which  you  have  always 
found  the  sweetest." 

There  was  something  now  in  the  voice  of  the  speaker  that 
made  Marguerite  look  up.  Her  eyes  immediately  met  his  own 
and  the  wolfish  exultation  which  they  hetrayed  confounded 
and  made  her  shudder.  She  felt  at  once  terrified  with  a  name 
less  fear.  There  was  a  sudden  sickness  and  sinking  of  her  heart 
She  felt  that  there  was  a  terrible  meaning,  a  dreadful  mystery 
in  his  looks  and  words,  the  solution  of  which  she  shrunk  from 
with  a  vague  but  absorbing  terror.  She  was  too  well  acquainted 
with  the  sinister  expression  of  that  glance.  She  rallied  herself 
to  speak 

"  What  is  it  that  you  mean,  my  lord  ?  Something  dreadful  ! 
What  have  you  done?  This  food — " 

"  Ay,  this  food  !  1  can  very  well  understand  that  you  should 
find  it  delicious.  It  is  Mich  as  you  have  always  loved  a  little 
too  much.  It  is  but  natural  that  you  should  relish,  now  that  it 
is  dead,  that  which  you  so  passionately  enjoyed  while  living. 
Marguerite,  the  meat  of  that  dish  which  you  have  eaten  was 
once  the  heart  of  (juillaume  de  Cabestaign  !" 

The  lips  of  the  wretched  woman  parted  spasmodically.  Her 
jaws  Deemed  to  stre.tch  asunder.  Her  eyes  dilated  in  a  horror 
akin  to  madness.  Her  arms  were  Mi  etched  out  and  forward. 
She  half  rose  from  the  table,  which  she  at  length  seized  upon 
for  her  support. 

"  N<  !"  she  exclaimed,  hoarsely,  at  length.  "No!  no!  It  is 
not  true.  It  is  net  possible.  1  will  not  —  I  dare  not  believe  it." 

"  You  shall  have  a  witness,  Marguerite !     You  shall   hear  it 

from  one  whom,  heretofore,  you  have.  believed  always,  and  who 
will  find  it  impossible  now  to  lie.  Behold  !  This  is  the  head 
of  him  who.se  heart  you  have  eaten  |" 

With  the.se  dreadful  words,  the  cruel  baron  raised  the  ghastly 
head  of  the  troubadour,  which  he  had  hitherto  concealed  beneath 
the  table,  and  which  he  now  placed  upon  it.  At  this  horrible 
spectacle,  the  wretched  woman  sunk  down  in  a  swoon,  from 
which,  however,  >he  awakened  hut  too  quickly.  The  wan  and 
bloody  aspt-rt  of  her  hiver,  the  eyes  glazed  in  death  but  full 
still  oi' the  tenuere.^l  expression,  met  her  {jaze  as  it.  opened  upon 
the  light.  The  buvagc  Lott  .  achieved  the  horrid  butcl 


CATASTROPHE. 

ery  >'  -r.  and    pointing   .-it    tin-   >pectach  v.     Ilia 

fill  and  demoniac  glance —  the  horrid  cnirlty  "f  which  he 
continued  to  hoast  —  her  conscious  innocence  and  that  of  her 
lover  -  her  complete  and  deep  despair  —  all  conspired  to  ana 
her  soul  with  courage  which  she  had  never  felt  till  now.  In  the 
ruin  of  her  heart  she  had  grown  reckless  of  her  life.  Her  eye 
confronted  the  murderer. 

"  Be  it  so!"  she  exclaimed.  "As  I  have  eaten  of  meat  so 
precious,  it  fit!  not  that  inferior  food  should  ever  again  pass 
tilt-.--  This  is  tin1  last  supper  which  I  shall  taste  on  earth  !' 

••  What !  dare  you  thus  shamelessly  avow  to  me  your  passion  ?" 
"  A\  !   u  (iod  \\ho  beholds  us  knows,  never  did  woman  more 
•••ly  and  truly  love  mortal  man,  than  did  Marguerite  of 
-illon  the  pure  and  noble  Guillaume  de  Cabestaign.     It  it* 
true  .'     1  fear  not  to  say  it  now  !     Now,  indeed,  1  ain  his  only, 
and  for  e\ 

Trail.-.  .  ith  fury  at  what  he  heard,  Raymond  drew  his 

:er,  and  rushed  to  where  she  stood.     But  she  did  not  await 
his  \\  capon.     Anticipating  his  wrath,  she  darted  headlong  through 
Inch  opened    upon    a   balcony,  over   the   balustrade  of 
which,  with  a  second  eti'ort,  she  liung  herself  into  the  court  be 
low.      All  tiiis  \\  as  the  work  of  but  one  impulse  and  of  a  single 
i.t.      liaunond    reached  the  balcony  as   the   delicate   frame 
of  the  beautiful  woman  was  crushed  upon  the  Hag-stones  of  the 
'.     Life  had  utterly  departed  when  they  raised  her  from  the 
ground ! 

This  terrible  catastrophe  struck  society  everywhere  with  cou- 
;i,  \\hen  not  only  chivalry,  but  the  church, 

tion   to  the  existence  and  encou: 

ment  of  that  strange  conventional  love  which  \\  e  have  sought  to 

ibe,   the    crime    of  Raymond   provoked   a   universal    horror. 

,  artificial  and   sentimental  rather  than   passionate,  was  the 

,-oul  equally  .if  military  ac  hic\  ement  and  of  aristocratic  society. 

It  \vas   then  •  •!'  va>t  importance,  as  an  element  of  power,  in  the 

»f   religion      enthusiasm.       The    >hi,i-k    gi\«-n    to    tlmse   who 

cheii>he.l  lli'.  :it,  by  thi>  .ireadfiil  history,  was  felt  to  all 

.-xtremities  of  i'.e  social  circle.      Tin-  friends  ami  kindred  of 

-the    princes   and    princesses   of  the    land  —  nobl« 

lords,  knights  and  ladies,  all  combined,  as  by  a  common  iiupuL>e, 


(04  :;i<   no! 


to    uriK.iiiice   and    to  dcslro)    '.m-    blooily-mitlileJ    cinninal.      Al 
}  i.tnis.i.  kii;.;  of  Arrag.tn,  deVoteJ  himsi'lf  In  llir  \vurk  of  just  ire 

linyuioud  wa.->  seized  and  ca>t  into  a  dungeon.     \\\>  castle  uas. 

ra/rtl  to  tin-  ground,  under  a  public  decree,  which  M-;,rrel\  an 
ticipated  the  eager  rage  of  hundreds'who  rushed  to  the  work  of 
demolition.  The  criminal  himself  was  Miileied  to  live;  but  he 
lived,  either  in  prison  or  in  exile,  with  loss  uf  caste  and  society 
and  amidst  universal  detestation  ! 

Very  different  was  the  fate  of  the  lovers  whom  man  could  no 
more  harm  or  separate.  They  were  honored,  under  the  sane- 
tion  of  Alphonso,  with  a  gorgeous  funeral  procession.  They 
were  laid  together,  in  the  same  tomb,  before  the  church  of  iVi 
pignan,  and  their  names  and  cruel  history  were  duly  engraven 
upon  the  stone  raised  to  their  memory.  According  to  the  Ti"- 
\  rural  historians,  it  was  afterward  a  ruMom  \\ith  the  knights  of 
Roussillon,  of  Cerdagne,  and  of  Narbonnois,  every  year  to  join 
with  the  noble  dames  and  ladies  of  the  same  places,  in  a  M»lenm 
MM  \  ice,  in  memory  of  Marguerite  of  lloussillou,  and  William  of 
Cabefftftign.  At  the  same  time  came  lovers  of  both  sexes,  on  a 
pilgrimage  to  their  tomb,  where  they  prayed  for  the  repose  of 
their  souls.  The  anniversary  of  this  service  was  instituted  by 
Alphonso.  We  may  add  that  romance  has  more  than  once 
seized  upon  this  tragic  history,  out  of  which  to  weave  her  fic 
tions.  Hoecacio  has  found  in  it  the  material  for  one  of  the  stories 
of  the  Decameron,  in  which,  however,  while  perverting  history, 
he  has  done  but  little  to  merit  the  gratulation  of  Art.  lie  has 
failed  equally  to  do  justice  to  himself,  and  to  his  melancholy 
subject. 


CHAPTER    VII 

"  Ole  Baginny  nrl>l>i-r  tin-.' 


Mute 

WE  are  now  off  the  capes  of  Virginia,  and  you  begin  to  smell 
the  juleps.  When  the  winds  are  fair,  they  impregnate  the  at- 

ratefully  I   must  confess  —  full  forty  miles  at 
even  as  the   Mississippi  gives   its   color  to  the  Gulf,  the  I 

mee  from  the  Balize.  Should  y..ur  vessel  be  becalmed  along 
the  e<>a>t,  asinine  has  been  frequently,  you  will  be  compensated  by 
tin-  grateful  odor,  morning  ami  evening,  as  iVoin  gardens  where 
mint  and  t  row  together  in  most  intimate  communion. 

The  Virginian  has  always  been  a  good  liver.  He  unites  the 
contradictory  (Dualities  which  distinguished  the  English  squire 
when  he  drew  sword  for  the  Stuarts,  lie  ha>  been  freed  fn»m 
the  brutal  exce»es  which  dehased  the  character  of  his  ano 

,  1  hy  Macaulay  ;  but  he  has  lost  none  of  the  generous 
virtues,  which,  in  the  same  pages,  did  honor  to  the  same  charac 
ter.  He  has  all  the  loyalty  and  faith  of  the  pa*t  —  he  Mill  he- 
lieve>  in  the  antique  charms  of  his  home  and  parish.  He  is 
brave  and  hardy,  though  indolent,  and  has  a  martial  swagger 
iiarly  his  own,  which  gives  an  ea>y  grace  to  his  courage 
while  taking  nothing  from  what  is  wholesome  in  his  social  de 
meanor 

The  Virginian  is  a  lounger.  He  will  sleep  for  days  and 
s,  but  only  to  start  into  the  m«st  energetic  and  performing 
lite.  See  him  as  he  dlOWMI  at  ease  in  the  shade  of  his  pia/.za, 
his  legs  over  the  balustrade;  observe  him  as  he  dawdles  at  the 
tavern,  in  a  like  attitude,  with  a  sympathetic  crowd  of  idlers 
around  him.  There  he  sits,  as  y««u  peireive,  in  a  i  ;»air, 

of  domestic  fashion,  the  seat  of  which  is  untanned  bull's  hide  — 
his  head  thrown  back,  his  heels  in  the  air  over  an  empty  barrel 
a  huge  plantation  cigar  protruded  from  his  left  cheek,  a:.  !  a  pint 


106  SOUTHWARD    HO! 

goblet  of  julep,  foaming  amid  green  loaves  and  ice,  T.eside  him 
Flu-re   lie  will   sit,  and    swear  famously,  and   discuss  politic-  by 

the  hour,  and  talk  of  his  famous  horses,  orators,  and  warriors 

for  he  is  a  good  local  chronicler  always,  and  has  a  wonderful 
::ioryof  all  that  has  happened  in  the  "Old  Dominion."  Ton 
will,  if  you  know  nothing  of  him,  fancy  him  a  mere  braggart  and 
'iigganl.  But  wait  Only  sound  the  trumpet  — give  the 
alarm  — and  he  is  on  his  feet.  If  a  .-luggard,  he  is  like  the 
Black  Sluggard  in  Ivanhoe.  He  only  waits  the  proper  p. 
cation.  Like  the  war-horse,  the  blast  of  the  trumpet  puts  his 
wh.de  frame  in  motion.  He  kirks  the  chair  from  under 
He  rolls  the  barn-1  away  with  a  single  lurch.  The  cigar  is  flung 
from  his  jaw;  and,  emptying  his  julep,  he  is  prepared  for  action 
—  ready  to  harangue  the  multitude,  or  square  ofi'  against  any 
assailant 

His  fault  in  war  is  want  of  caution.  He  never  provides 
against  an  enemy  because  he  never  fears  one.  He  is  fVe^uentlv 
caught  napping,  but  he  makes  up  for  it,  in  the  end,  by  extra  ex 
ertions.  There  is  a  dash  of  Raleigh  and  John  Smith  both  in  his 
character,  as  when  the  "Old  Dominion,"  when  it  had  not  a  gun 
boat  or  a  piece  of  ordnance,  defied  Cromwell,  and  declared  at  all 
hazard  for  the  Stuarts.  His  loyalty  is  as  indisputable  as  his  cour 
age provided  you  let  him  show  it  as  he  pleases.  Heifi  U  self-will 
ed  as  Prince  liupert,  who,  in  most  respects,  was  no  bad  representa 
tive  of  the  Virginian  ;  — hold,  headlong,  dashing,  full  of  courage 
and  effrontery,  fond  of  a  row,  and  mixing  fun,  fight  and  devo 
tion,  together,  in  a  rare  combination,  which  does  not  always  of 
fend,  however  it  may  sometimes  startle.  A  proud  fellow,  who 
loves  no  master,  and  who  only  serves  because  it  is  his  humor  to 

He   is   profligate   beyond    his   means.       His  hospitality,  which 
"nee  his  virtue,  is,  like  that  of  some  of  his  neighbors  further 
.  beci  ming  a  weakness  and  a  vice.      He  will  not,  1 
>ri>n<rintc,    though    his    gorge     rises    at     the     thought     of    bank 
ruptcy.      He    is    to     much    of  an    iinlirnlunl   for   that  — has   too 
much  pride  </.v  „    Virginia*.     Hut,  I   tear  that  his  profligacy  o| 
life  has  tainted  the  purity  of  his  politics.      I  could  wish  that  Vir 
ginians  were  less  solicitors  of  the  ilesh-pots  of  the  national  gov 
eruiueiit 


•  \  poun  107 


Th--  irenfi.'-  Ill  "no  of  the  mo^t  interesting  of 

our  state  histories.      It  is  tin*  pride  -if  Virginia  to  have  horn 
of  the  matei  Ti-il  st;/  '  his  distinction 

with  rolinas.     I  do  imt  moan  to 

!y,  that  her  M>HS  1  Suited  to  form  the  population  of 

•nnation  of  their  character   that 

-  given  tone  and  opinion  to  the 
•hat  have  arisen  along  her  frontier.      She   lias 
My  influenced  their  social  habits  and  courage.     It  woul 

,-ial   philosopher,  to   inquire  into   the 
be  has  done  this.     It  is  enough  that  I  sug^ 

-  What  a  mi>fortune  to  Virginia  that  she  is  so  near  to  the  Dis 
trict  of  Colun. 

I  given  live  presidents  to  the  confederacy." 
••  Jfesl    thifl  to  make  office    a  natural  craving;   while, 

•  hough  t  that  every  male-child   horn  since  the  days  of  Mon- 
.n  \vith  a  sort  of  natural  instinct  for,  and  a  right  to  the 

••  Vet.  i,»w  curious   mnv-a-days   are  the   tnvlmcl  for  a  presi 

••  !  L|    yi-t    this    would   be  no   great   evil  —  this 

.;,•   i:i  the   |0rl  of  day  supposed  essential  for  the  manufac- 

—  if  stat'  iheir   integrity,    their  principles   and 

B,  with  their  pass'mn.      Hut  \  !.'xil,le  in  moral  in  pro- 

1    one  wh"   is    .•-.K.stantly   hungering 

will  L     The  eagle.  descend>    to 

of  the  kite,  and    the    rac-  wh"     nice  wrought   their 
u-hle,  soon  content    th.-ms-lv^s  with  very  nule  im- 

..t  he  imitati-:  W      '    WT1  reached  that 

;i  it  is  no  !  al,  the  counsel  of  1  i 

let  to  !ii>  mother,  ;  virtue  if  you  have  it    not.'      It  is  not 

onlv  ii"    longer   held    e>sential    t"  keep    up    the    appearance 
tiuti;  •-.-intisiu,  ;  '    to    he   lauglied    at   for    his 

patriotic   at  Washington   is  held  to  be  a 

••  Let    u-  ii"t    >peak  of   it.      How  much  more    grateful  is   it  to 
1.  .nk  hack  to  the  i"ii-h.  wild,  half  savage.  1  ut  brave  and   honest 


103  SOUTHWARD   HO  ! 

pa-t.  What  a  pity  it  is  that  our  people  do  not  read  their  own 
old  chronicles.  It  is  now  scarcely  possible  to  pick  up  any  of  the 
old  hi  -f  the  states,  which  a  sincere  people,  with  any  ven 

eration  left,  would  be  careful  to  keep  in  every  household." 

"  What  an  equal  pity  it  is  that  these  chronicles  have  been  so 
feebly  exemplified  by  the  local  historians.  These  have  usually 
shown  themselves  to  be  mere  compilers.  They  were,  in  fact,  a 
dull  order  of  men  among  us.  They  were  wholly  deficient 
in  imagination  and  art  ;  and  quite  incapable  of  developing  --race- 
fully,  or  even  of  exhibiting  fairly,  the  contents  of  the  chronicle. 
The\  merely  accumulated  or  condensed  the  records;  they  nev 
er  tlixj>!tiyi(l  them.  This  is  the  great  secret  by  which  histories 
are  preserved  to  the  future  and  kept  popular  through  time.  Art 
is  just  as  necessary  in  truth  as  in  fiction  —  a  fact  of  which  critics 
e\eu  do  not  always  appear  conscious.  See  now  the  wonderful 
Knccess  and  attraction  of  Mr.  Prescott's  labors.  His  secret  con- 
chiefly  in  the  exercise  of  the  appropriate  degree  of  art. 
Jl  >  materials,  in  the  main,  are  to  be  found  in  a  thousand  old 
volumes,  available  to  other  writers  ;  but  it  was  in  his  art  that 
the  lumbersome  records  became  imbued  with  life.  His  narra 
tives  of  the  conquest  of  JYru  and  Mexico  are  so  many  exquisite 
pictures  —  action,  scene,  portrait,  all  harmoniously  blended  in 
beautiful  and  symmetrical  connection.  His  details,  which,  in 
common  hands,  were  usually  sadly  jumbled,  constitute  a  series 
of  noble  dramas — all  wrought  out  in  eloquent  action.  His 
events  are  all  arranged  with  the  happiest  order.  His  dramatis 
{></•*<>/«/  play  their  part.-,  according  to  the  equal  necessities  of  the 
history  and  of  their  individual  character.  The  parts  harmonize, 
the  persons  work  together,  and  the  necessary  links  preserved 
between  them,  the  action  is  unbroken  to  the  close.  All  irrele 
vant  mattfi,  calculated  to  impair  this  interest,  is  carefully  dis 
carded  ;  all  subordinate  matter  is  dismissed  with  a  proper  brev 
ity,  or  compressed  in  the  form  of  notes,  at  the  bottom  of  his 
.  Nothing  is  dwelt  upon  at  length,  but  that  which  justices 
delineation,  either  from  the  intrinsic  value  of  the  material,  or 
from  its  susceptibilities  for  art.  Suppose  the  historian  were  to 
employ  such  a  rule  in  the  development  of  such  chronicles  as 
those  of  Virginia  .'  What  a  beautiful  volume  might  be  made  of 
it!  How  full  of  admirable  lessons,  of  lovely  sketches,  o/ 


SMITH    A>  .FIONTAS.  100 

fine  contrasts,  and   .-pint -stirring  actions.     The   parly  * 

,  to  tin'    time  of   Smith,  would    form    the    Mihject  «.f  a    ' 
•itful  chapter;    and  tin •:  >  upon  the  ca.  -mitli 

.-if — that    remarkable   man,   excellent    politician,   and   truly 
ill-man  and    soldier.      11  been  the   last 

6  which  had  passed  l'r«.ni  sight  1 
red    upon  the    Stage,       He  \\.-is   the   embodiment   of  the 

rivalry.      How  manly  his  career  —  with  what 
Mm  did    he  prepare  for  the  iiio>t    try'; 

how  generous  his  courage — how  disinterested  his  virtue-  —  how 
.le\oted    to   the    sex  —  a  pTCUX   < /<(f<t/t<r,  not    unworthy  to    ! 
slipped    with    P.ayard    after   the    hattle    of    Marignano.      Neither 
ind  m.r  America  has  ever  done  justice  to  the  genius  or  the 

of  this  man,  and    I  fear  that    his  name    v. 
in  the  v.  ifi  distinctions.      It  is  ditlieult   t.»  belie-, 

the  ;  :'  a  man  named  Smith.      Men  do  not  doubt  th. 

will  tight,  hnt  •  :  hrmisin.    Heroism  is tbe  m 

virtue;   and  we  are  slow  to  ally  it  with  the  name  of  Smith  —  in- 
.  with  any  Dai  'n-le  syllahle.      There  are  really  few 

or  no  Haws  in  the  character  of  the  founder  of  Virginia." 

"  1  U)  DO(  Mire  of  that!      AVhat  d-  J    to  his   treatment 

of  the  heantifnl   dau-hter  of  J'owhatan  I      His  coldness— " 

"  Y..U  have   .-imply  -tnmlded   in  the   track  of  a  j»..j»ular  ffl 
I-  if  fl  vulgar  notion  that    he  enconraired    and  sli^ht»'d    tlie  atVec- 

.     He  neither  he-niled 

tier  with  false  ihoWfl  cf  love,  nor  was  inditVerent    to  her  1-eanties 
or  her   virtn-  i  U   a    mere    child    to    Smith.    1  ut 

tWf4v€  jrean  old  when  he  first  knew  her,  and  he  ahoiit  fori 
••  Hut  his  neglect  of  her  when  she  went  to  England" 
"  He  did   not   ne-lect    : 

roached  him  l'..r  it." 

.;     the    poor    M.V«ge    in    her    unsophisticated    child-heart, 
Knew  nothing   of  that    convention  which,  in  Kuroj  hur- 

-.,in,-ly  np..n    Smith    as   upon    herself.      Kven  then,  ho\\  , 

his  own  child,  \\ith  this 

dilVerence,  that    IP  iuireil    to  approach  her   as  a  ]iri: 

U  ,  hy  a  prudent   caution  which  did  not 

ventu'-e  to  <>t.  Bfl  "f  the  Sc<>- 

iiion,    'hen    upon    the    {]  llO,    if   \«.u    remeiuhei. 


110  SOUTHWARD  no! 

slow  t<>  forgive  Rolfe,  one  of  his  subjects,  for  the  audacity  which 
led  him  to  marry  the  princess  of  Virginia." 

"  By  the  way,  you  have  yourself  made  Smith  an  ohject  of  the 
love  of  Pocahontas." 

"It  was  the  sin  of  my  youth  ;  and  was  the  natural  use  to  be 
made  of  the  suhject  when  treating  it  in  verse." 

"Come  —  as  one  of  your  contributions  to  our  evening,  give 
us  your  legend.  Miss  Burroughs  will  no  doubt  he  pleased  to 
hear  it,  and  your  verse  may  very  well  serve  as  a  relief  to  our 
prose." 

"  What  do  you  say,  Selina  ?" 

"  Oh  !  by  all  means — the  legend." 

"  To  hear  is  to  obey." 

The  circle  closed  about  me,  and,  with  many  natural  misgivings, 
and  a  hesitation  which  is  my  peculiar  infirmity,  I  delivered  my 
self  as  well  as  I  could  of  the  fabrication  which  follows: — 

POCAHONTAS;  A  LEGEND  OF  VIRGINIA. 


LIGHT  \v;is  her  la-art  ami  sweet  her  smile, 

The  dusky  maid  of  forest-hower, 
Eie  yet  the  stranger's  step  of  guile 

Bore  one  soft  beauty  from  the  flower; 
Tin*  wild  girl  of  an  Indian  vale, 

A  child,  with  all  of  woman's  seeming, 
And  if  her  cheek  he  less  than  pale, 

Twns  with  the  life-Mood  through  it  streaming 
Soft  was  the  light  that  fill'd  her  eye, 

And  grace  was  in  i\cr  every  motion, 
Her  voice  was  touching,  iike  the  sigh, 

\Vheu  passion  first  becomes  devotion  ; — 
And  worship  si  ill  was  hers  —  Ijfr  sire 

Beloved  and   f.-ar'd,  a  pi  Jure  of  power, 
Whose  simplest  word  or  glance  of  in- 
Still  made  a  thousand  warriors  cower. 
Not  such  her  sway,— yet  not  the  les», 
Because  it  hettei  pleased  to  bless, 
And  won  its  rule  by  gentle:,. 

Among    !l    Savage    people,    still 

She  kept  fro:,)  -  ,  ,-js  npart, 

And  thought  of  crime,  and  1 1  ream  of  jjj 

I  JiJ.I    l.rVei    hU  a\  '(I    IP    ,     i,, 


THF.  Foni:-T  MAI:  11 1 

A  miMfi    nitoi   In,!  1  ren  tli. 

And,  midst  wild  scenes  and  wilder  men 
Her  sj>!i  ii,  iik.>  her  form,  was  fair, 

And  gracious  was  its  guidance  then. 
Hrr  si  if,  that  fierce  old  forest  king 

Himself  had  ruled  that  slip  should  ho 
A  meek,  nnd  over  gentle  thing, 

To  clip  his  neck,  to  clasp  his  knee; 
To  l>ring  his  rup  when,  from  the  chase, 

He  cuine  o'ei  wearied  with  its  toils; 
To  cheer  him  l>y  her  giili.-h  ^ 

To  sooth  him  by  her  sunniest  smiles: — 
They  renr'd  her  thus  a  tiling  apart 

From  deeds  that  make  the  savage  rftirt\i 
And  Imply  had  she  kept  her  heart 

As  fresh  and  gentle  as  at  birth  ; 
A  Christian  heart,  though  by  its  n 

Untaught)  yt.  in  her  native  wild, 
Free  from  nil  evil  thought  or  deed, 

A  sweet,  and  fond,  nnd  tearful  child; 
woman  y.  t,  hut  haply  nigh 

The  unconscious  changes  of  the  hour 
When  \outh  is  sad,  unknowing  why, — 

The  hud  dilating  to  the  flower, 
And  sighing  with  the  expanding  birth 

Of  passionate  hopes,  that,  born  to  bles«, 
May  yet,  superior  still  to  earth, 

Make  happy  with  their  pure  impress 
Such,  in  her  childhood,  ere  the  blight 

Of  failing  fortunes  touch'd  her  race, 
Was  Pocahontas  still, —  a  bright 

And  blowing  f(,rm  of  youth  and  grace  »-- 
Beloved   of  nil.   her  father's  pride, 

His  passion,  from  the  rest  apart, 

A  love  for  which  he  would  have  died, 

The  very  life-blood  of  his  heart. 

II. 

The  king  would  seek  the  chase  to-dmy 

Ami  mighty  i.«  the  wild  array 

That  gathers  niyh  in  savage  play, — 

A  nation  yields  its  ear  ; 
A  bison  herd — So  goes  the  tale  — 
Is  trampling  down  the  cultured  vale, 
And  none  who  love  the  land  may  fail 

To  gather  when  the\    : 


112  SOUTHWARD  no! 

Hi-  poes —  the  father  fnnji  liis  child. 
To  seek  the  monster  of  iln>  wild. 
But.  in  his  fonil  embraces  caught, 
Ere  yd  In-  goes,  he  hears  her  thought  — 
HIT  wish  —  In.-  Hpotted  fawn — the  j.mr 
The  pet  moat  dear  to  girlhood's  cv.-», 
Long  promised,  which  the  chase  deniei 
StiTii  i-  the  sudden  look  he  darts 

Among  the  assembled  crowd,  as  now 
His  footstep  from  the  threshold  part*, 
Arid  dark  the  cloud  ahout  his  hrow. 

"  We  hunt  no  timid  deer  to-day, 
And  in  tn  for  slaughter,  not  for  play  — 
Another  season  for  such  prev, 

My  child,  and  other  prey  for  the«. 
A  captive  from  the  herd  we  seek, 
Would  hrincr  I,, a  sonow  to  thy  cheek, 
Make  iliee  forget  \\lint  peace  is  here, 
Of  bird,  and  hloom,  ai;d  shady  tree, 
And  leach  thine  eyes  the  unknown  tea/    - 
No  more  !" 

He  puts  her  from  his  grnrp 
Undoes,  with  penile  hand,  the  claip 
She  takes  ahout  his  nerk,  and  then, 
E\en  as  lie  sees  her  silent  grief, 
He  turns,  that  stern  old  warrior-chief 
And  takes  her  to  his  arms  again. 
•'  It  shall  he  as  thou  wilt  —  the  fawn, 
Ere  from  the  hills  the  light  is  gone, 
Shall  crouch  beneath  thy  hands." 
How  sweetly  then  she  smiled  —  hi*  eye 
Once  more  perused  her  tenderly, 
Then,  with  a  smiie,  lie  put  her  by, 
And  shouted  to  his  bands. 

III. 

They  came  !  —  a  word,  a  look,  is  all  — 

The  thicket  hides  their  wild  array; 
A  thousand  warriors,  plumed  and  tall, 

Well  nrrn'd  and  painted  for  the  fray. 
The  maiden  watch'd  their  march, —  a  donM 

Rose  in  her  heart,  which,  as  they  went, 
H.-r  t-miMir  had  half-way  spoken  out, 

Smpicious  of  their  fell  intent. 
'A  bison  held  —  yet  why  the  ftown 

Upon  my  father's  brow,  and  whv 


TIIK    WAR    PARTY.  lib 

The  war-tu(t  DII  each  winior'i  rrnwn, 

Tin1  war-whoop  ng  they  pnlhrr'H  nigh  T 
They  tell  i>("  Knuiger  bmvw —  a  rnrr, 
Willi  thunder  chid,  ami  pale  of  face, 
And  ligh'niii  _':a*p —  who  dart 

.ilt  unseen  \\i:h  deadliest  aim  — 

A  sudden  shock,  :i  rush  of  (lamp — 
Still  fatal,  to  the  fo.-man's  heart. 
Ah  !    much   1   fear,  with  these  to  fight, 

Our  \v:iiii.ns  M'i-l\  tht>  woods  to-day  , 
And  they  will  luick  letuin  liv  nighl 

Wiih  homd  tokens  of  the  fray; — 
With  captive-;  doorn'd  in  rohes  of  fire 

'<>th  the  spin'ts  of  those  who  fell, 
And  plut  the  red  nnd  ni^itig  ire 

Ot  ti.o.-e  win)  hut  iivi-n^e  too  well  ' 
Ali  !  fiitlier,  rould  my  pi;iy.  r  avail, 

Such  should  not  he  their  sport  and  pride, 
It  were,  niethinks,  a  lovelier  talc, 

Of  pr;iee  alon^  our  river's  side; 
And  Droves  of  plenty,  fill'd  witli  aong 
Ol    1'iids  that  crowd,  a  happy  throng 

To  hull  the  happier  lliront,"*  In-low; 
That  tend  the  nuiiz.e-fieids  and  pursue 
The  ch;i>.-.  <>r  i.r-.'  tin-  hiivh  taiioo, 

And  seek   no  prey  arid  have  no  foe! 

Ah  !   not  for  mi if  there  should  oom« 

A  chief  to  In -ai  me  to  his  home  — 
L«'t  hiri.  'ml  h.ipe,  with  l.loody  sj" 

TII  \\m  me  to  his  heart  and  will  — 
Nor  lio-tst  in  |,»pi-  to  J'li-nse  mine  ear, 

Of  victims  he  has  joy'd  to  kill. 

No!    h-t  m«-  lie  u  maiden    still; 
1  •  .'Hi-  n. it  il    they  mock,  and  say 

The  chili)  of   l'it\\  hataii  sitMonr, 
And  liiiL'fi-  I'V  the  puhii 

\Vith  nntie  to  h*-arken  to  her  moan  — 
tShe'll  sit,  nor  si^h,  till  one  apprar* 
\N  ho  duds  no  jtiy  in  human  tearr" 

IV. 

Now  niiik*  the  day-xtar,  nml  ll 

\N'ith  dun  an. I  purple  *•  >  .•  . 

Sudden  the  dark   a-*ct mh.  llie  night 

-  on  wiln  raj. i.l  iu>h  and    fli. 
The  maidi-n  leaves  In  r  f'<>i>  nl  holers, 

Will  ie    !.,!.-    »!,.-    M..N,-    h,T   idle    do*.  It. 


!  1  J  SOUTHWARD    HO! 

Cliill'.l  l-v  the  pl.iiiir,  but  chill  d  the  moi* 

As  from  the  distant  wood  she  hoars 
A  sh-iek  of  death,  that,  heard  before, 

Hath  grown  familiar  to  her  ears; 
And  tills  her  soul  with  secret  dread 

Of  many  a  grief  the  young  heart  know* 
.     In  loneliness,  by  fancy  fed, 

That  evrr  broods  o'er  nameless  woes, 
And  grieves  the  more  at  that  relief 
Which  finds  another  name  for  grief. 
Too  certain  now  her  cause  of  fear, 

That  shout  of  death  awakes  again  ; 
The  cry  which  stuns  her  woman  ear, 

Is  that  of  vengeance  for  the  slain. 
Too  well  she  knows  the  sound  that  speakt 

For  terrors  of  the  mortal  strife  ; 
Th«-  bitter  yell,  whose  promise  reeks 

With  vengeance  on  the  captive  life. 

"  No  bison  hunt,"  she  cried,  "  but  fight, 
Their  cruel  joy,  their  sad  delight ; 
They  come  with  bloody  hands  to  bring 
Some  captive  to  the  fatal  ring; 
There's  vengeance  to  be  done  to-day 
For  warrior  slaughter'd  in  the  fray; 
Yet  who  their  foe,  unless  it  be 
The  race  that  comes  beyond  the  sea, 
Tin-  pale,  but  powerful  chiefs  who  bear 

The  lightnings  in  their  grasp,  and  flinf 
Their  sudden  thunder  through  the  air, 

With  bolu  that  fly  on  secret  wing  ? 
The  Massawomek  now  no  more 
Brings  down  liis  warriors  to  the  shorn, 

And  'twas  but  late  the  Monacan, 
O'ercome  in  frequent  fight,  gaYe  o'er 

And  bow'd  the  knee  to  Powhatan. 
Scarce  is  gone  three  moons  ago 
Since  they  laid  the  hatchet  low, 
Smoked  the  calumet,  that  grew 

To  a  sign  for  every  eye, 
And  by  this  the  warriors  knew 
That  the  Spirit  from  above, 
As  the  light  smoke  floated  high, 
Bless'd  it  with  the  breath  of  love. 
Tis  the  pale-face,  then,  and  he.— 
Wild  in  wrath,  and  dread  to  see, — 
Terrible  in  fight, —  ah  '   me  !  — 


''NCIL   OF   POWHATAN  II 

••'list  my  father'*  hoart 
He  Irith  sped  hi^  thunder-dart 

V. 

Now  gather  the  warriors  of  Powhatnn  nigh, 

-  ' 

•..<>!  stool  u  stone; 

D;irk  tin-  (-loud  on  his  brow,  keen  the  fire  in  hi- 
To  a  ridge  on  his  forehead  swells  the  vein  ; — 

His  r  -  the  hatchet,  which  swings  to  and  fro 

As  if  ready  to  gink  in  the  brain, 

But  seeking  in  vain  for  the  foe! 
Thus  the  king  on  the  circle  looks  round, 
With  n  =peech  that  hath  never  a  sound; 

hath  a  thirst  which  impartJ 
What  the  lip  might  hut  feebly  essay, 
And  it  speaks  like  an  arrow  to  their  hearts, 

As  if  bMdin.^  them  hound  on  the 
T>..«  hrovi  of  "ach  shiel   !§  >n  nil, 

With  a  loftiness  horn  of  his  own; 
And  the  kinjr,  like  the  lion  from  his  lair, 
Looks  proud  on  the  props  of  his  throne. 
_'le  and  his  tiger  are  there, 

ougar,  his  fox, — 
And,  cold  on  tl  iiis  rocks, 

«  hi*  alumni  and  cries, 
"  I  strike,  and  my  enemy  dies!" 

Lifts  the  sotd  of  tl  e  monarch  to  hear, 

Lifts  the  soul  of  the  monarch  t" 
And,  quick  at  hi*  summons,  the  chieftain*  draw  near, 

And,  shouting  they  sink  on  the  knee, — 

Then  rise  and  uwuil  his  dr 

VI. 

Hie  king  in  conscious  majesty 
Roll'd  around  hi«  fiery 

•  •ii-T.  hung  on  high, 
Tells  of  fearful  things  to  be, 
In  i:  >il  of  fate, 

Which  the  \ictini  may  not  flee  — 
It  may  be  to  one  | 

( )t   the  thousand  forms  that  wait. 
At  the  footstool  of  the  throne  ' 

'i,  but  er«« 

-peak  to  human  sense, 
.,. — 


IK  SOUTHWARD   HO  ! 

One  descends,  n  form  of  light, 
As  if  borne  with  downward  flight, 

Yim  may  hardly  enther  whence; 

:  the  form,  and  with  a  grace 
Caught  from  heaven  its  native  pl&c* 

•  of  eye.  and  with  a  cheek, 
In  i:  MM  meek, 

With  a  maiden  modesty, 
That  puts  Love,  a  subject,  by; — 
And  such  soft  iiml  streaming  tretse*. 
That  the  I;;I/.T  stops  and  blesses. 
Having  sudden  dreams  that  spell 

Reason  on  her  throne,  and  mak? 
All  the  suhject  thoughts  rebel, 

For  the  simple  fancy's  sake  ' 

Such  the  vision  now  !     The  ring 
Yields, —  and  lo  !  before  the  king, 
Down  she  sinks  beneath   the  thron* 
Where,  he  sits  in  strength  alone, — 
She  upon  a  lowly  stone  ! 
And  her  tresses  settle  down 
Loosely  on  her  shoulders  brown 
HeedU^s  she,  the  while,  of  aught 
But  the  terror  in  her  thought. 

•  in  her  fears,  her  hand 
Rests  upon  his  knee  —  her  eye — 

(i.-i/.ing  on  the  fierce  command 

Throned  in  his  with  majesty  — 
She  alone  at  that  dark  hour, 
Dare  approach  the  man  of  power 

VII. 

D:ead  the  pause  that  followed  thet 
In  those  ranks  of  savage  men; 
Kain  would  1'owliatan  declare 

What  is  working  in  his  soul; 
But  the  eye  that  meets  him  there 
As  the  maiden  upward  looks, 
Spelli  him  with  a  sweet  control 

long  his  spirit  brooki 
Such  control  —  his  angry  eye  — 

\s  her  with  reproving  fire, 
And  her  lips,  with  fond  reply, 
Part  to  calm  the  rising  ire  ; 
Soli  the  accents,  yet  the  found 

ni  ly  Im-uks  the  *:.ience  rojiul 


THK    DARK   SPOT.  11T 


YIII 

"  Is't  thus  thou  korp'st  thy  word  with  mo? 

!if>t  here  tin-  spotted  fawn, 
Whir1,  thou  didst  promise  mo  should  lip, 
l.ivlipht  from  the  hills  wa<  from-, 
A  captive  all  unharmed  cnupht. 
For  this,  to  wreathe  its  nock,  I  sought 

Tho  purple  flower  that  crowns  the  wood,— 
And  gnther'd  from  tin-  sandy  shore 
Tho  sinpine  -hrll  with  rrin 

As  it  were  dropji'd  witli  innorcnt  Mood. 
To  th«-<»  I  know  tl  •  lipht 

To  rousr  tho  silvor-foot  and  take, 
Even  in  its  \.  s'g'lf» 

Tho  hloatinir  raptivo  fiorn  tin-  hiakr. 
Yet,  hori»,  no  captive  waits  for  mo; 

No  trophy  of  thy  skill  and  toil  ; 
Not  even  tho  hinon-head  I  see, 

The  youthful  hunter's  proper  spoil. 
But,  in  its  gtead  —  ah!    wherefore  now, — 

My  father!  do  not  check  thy  child' 
Why  is  the  dark  spot  on  thy  hrow, 

And  why  thy  aspect  stern  and  wild  T 
What  may  this  mean  ?    no  bison  chase, 

Nor  failing  sport,  not  often  vain, 
Hnth  fix'd  that  sign  upon  your  Ic 

Of  passionate  hate  and  mortal  pain  ' 
Ah!   no!  mcthinks  the  fearful  mood 
Hath  found  its  birth  in  hostile  blood  — 
The  war-whoop,  shouted  as  y  went, 
This  told  me  of  your  fell  intent; 
Thr  death-whoop,  chanted  as  y  cnme, 
Dec-hired,  as  w.ll,  defeat  and  shame  !" 

IX. 

"Ay  !"   cried  the  monarch,  "well  yr  »pran 

I  feel  the  words  upon  my  ch-ek, 

Ti  buniinp  characters  that  cry 

For  %  my. 

'Ti«  true  as  thou  h  •-'  ild, 

\\ <    met  our  foniien  iii  tin*  wild, 

And  from  the  ronflict  !••   n 

Hut  death  an>l  «  fray. 

..•.!.!  il..-it  * 


SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 

The  pale-fare  with  Ida  thunder-fires, 

His  liirhtniiip-shafu,  anj  wizard  charms 
Hath  baffled  strength  and  courage. — We 

May  fold  our  arms  —  the  glorious  rare, 
That  from  the  day-»od  took  their  birti. 

-t  to  the  strang.  r  yield  the  place, 
t'proot  the  great  ancestral  tre.  , 

And  fling  their  mantles  down  on  earth 
"\  «-t  shall  there  bt-  no  vengeance?      Cries, 
From  earth  demand  the  sacrifice; 
Souls  of  the  slaughter'd  warriors  bland, 
And  wave  us  with  each  hloody  hand  ; 
Call  for  the  ghost  of  him  who  slew  — 
In  hloody  rites,  n  warrior  true, — 

And  shall  they  call  in  vain? 
To  smooth  the  path  of  shadows,  Heaven 
A  victim  to  the  doom  hath  given, 
Whose  heart,  with  stroke  asunder  riven, 

Shall  recompense  the  slain  !" 


While  fun-  took  the  place  of  grief, 
Impatient  then  the  monarch  chief, 
A  stalwart  savage  summon'd  nigh  ; — 

"The  pulr-tared  warrior  hring  —  the  brave 

Shriek  o'er  the  valley  for  their  slave, — 
I  hear  them  in  the  eagle's  cry, 
The  wolf's  shaq>  clamors  —  he  must  die1 
No  coward  he  to  shrink  from  death, 
But,  shouting  in  his  latest  breath, 

Itt  pangs  he  will  defy. — 

It  joys  my  soul  at  such  a  fate, 
Which,  though  the  agony  be  great, 

Can  still  exulting  iing, — 
Of  braves,  the  victims  to  hib  brand, 
Whose  crowding  ghosts  about  him  stand, 
To  bear  him  to  the  bpirit-lund 

On  swift  and  subject  wing  !" 

XI. 

Tho  block  is  prepared, 

The  weapon  is  bared, 
And  the  \\uniois  are  ni-h  with  their  tomahawks  rm 

The  prisoner  they  bring 

In  the  niidbt  of  the  ring, 
And  th.-  king  bids  tin-  .  ,,!  him  l>%  clear'd. 


TMK    \'H  1IM     A  I     1111,    .-TAKE. 

The  winth-  on  lii.-,  I.K.W  at  the  sight 

Of  the  prisoner  th.-y  hrini:  tn  his  doom, 

Now  kindl.-s  his  eye  with  a  lordly  delight, 
As  the  lightning-flii>h  kindles  the  gloom. 
H"  n*cs,  hi-  swa\.«,  witli  a  hreath, 
Aixl  hush'd  grows  tlie  cl;i;n.ir  of  death; 
Fulls  the  wrnpon  that  i:i".m'.l  with  the  thin' 
To  drink  from  the  fountniri  nccurst; 
Stills  the  murmur  that  spoke  for  thr  hate 
That  dinted  hul  to  wait  upon  fate. 

XII 

How  trrmhlrd  then  the  maid,  us  rose 

That  captive  warrior  enhn  and  stern, 
Thus  girded  hy  tlie  wolfish  : 

His  fearless  spirit  still  would  spurn  ; 

How  1'ii-ht  his  glance,  liow  fair  his  facr 

And  with  what  proud  and  liheral  grace 
\\\*  fiioi.-.tej's    fri-e  ad\a:ici-,  as  Still 

1 1     t.. I  lows  firm  the  hloody 

d  to  the  gloomy  j. 

'  kill ! 
How  fills  her  soul  with  dread  disirmy, 

Hi  holding  in  his  form  and  air 
How  nuhle  is  the  unwonted  prey 

11. us  yieldeil  to  the  deathaman  there 
Still  fe;ule>st  lliough  in  foreign  land, 
N.I  weapon  in  his  fettered  liand, 
Ciirt  hy  n  dnrk  and  liostile  hand 

Tlmt  rii-ver  knew  to  .<] 
flis  limhs,  hut  not  his  spirit  hound, 

How   looks   the  ^od-lik. 

«  t'  the  doom,  a>  when, 
;it  of  thirty  thousand  men, 
He  stood  hy  Ri'»:iir»  wnll«i,  and  slew 
The  In  rhi'-f*  thn' 

His  he.^t  in  heautv'x  >i^ht  to  do 
And  M-I  ki!._-  honor,  finding  M 
As  little  moNcd  I'V  fate  and   : 

As  when,  in  fair  ChurnUa'*  smile 
Kxulting,  he  was  doom'd  to 

1  hondagu  vile  ;— 
And  r!i  w-  him  in  hi-  :  ><>d, 

AOiat  In  side   hill)   »luod 
And  all  hi  i  *Ieuthl:ou:    .  last, 

I  '  01; • 


120  SOUTHWARD    HO! 

Where'er  his  flying  footsteps  past.* 
Not  now  to  shrink,  though,  in  his  eyes, 

Their  eager  hands,  nt  last,  elate, 
Have  track'd  him  where  the  bloodstone  lift*, 

And  mock  him  with  ihe  shaft  of  fatn  i 
With  courage  full  as  sreat  as  thein, 
He  keeps  a  soul  that  laughs  at  fears; 
Too  proud  for  prief,  too  brave  for  tears, 
Their  tortures  still  he  mocks,  and  boast* 
His  own  great  deeds,  (In-  crowding  host*, 
That  witness'd,  and  the  shrieking  ghost* 

His  violent  arm  set  free  ; 
And,  while  his  heart  dilates  in  thought 
Of  glorious  deeds  in  lands  remote, 

The  pride  of  Europe's  chivalry, 
It  seem'd  to  those  who  gazed,  that  still 
The  passion  of  triumph  seem'd  to  fill, 
While  nerving  with  a  deathless  will, 

The  exulting  champion's  heart ! 
Half  trembled  then  the  savage  foe, 
Lest  sudden,  from  the  unseen  bow, 
He  still  might  send  the  fatal  blow, 

He  still  might  wing  the  dart. 
But  soon  —  as  o'.-r  the  captive's  soul, 
Some  tender  memories  seem'd  to  roll, 
~.  'ke  billowy  Clouds  that  charged  with  strenrii* 
oo.in  hide  in  saddest  gloom  the  gleam* 
Of  the  imp. -rial  sun,  and  hush, 
In  grief,  the  day's  dilating  flush 
Of  glory  and  pride, —  the  triumph  fell  — 
The  soul  olicy'd  the  sudden  spell!  — 
A  drenm  of  love  that,  kindled  far, 
In  youth,  beneath  the  eastern  star, 
Is  passing  from  his  hope,  to  he 
The  last  best  light  of  memory. 
Soft  grew  the  lire  within  his  eyes, 
One  tear  tin-  warrior's  strength  defies, — 
His  soul  a  moment  falters  —  then, 
As  if  the  pliancy  were  shame, 
Dishonoring  all  his  ancient  fame, 
He  stood  !  —  the  master-man  of  men  ! 

XIII. 

That  moment*!  sign  of  weakness  broke 

The  spell  that  still'd  the  crowd  !      The  chi.-> 

•  SCP  thr  Life  of  r(ij>tniri  John  Smith,  the  founder  of  Virginia  ;  hie  w     ..• 
among  the  Turks,  &c. 


AT    THK    STAKE  121 

\Vit\i  -j>oke  — 

For  «:  ':'.'.'  H-k*  ;it  prief — 

"No  more!    why  should  th'  impatient  death 
Forhear,  till  with  tin1  woman's  breath, 
HIT  tiernl  !in<:  fiv.r,  her  yrarninjr  sigh 

For  life  but  vainly  kept  \viih  gimme, 

He  wrnnjrs  Mis  own  and  people*!  name!  — 
I  would  not  have  the  warrior  die, 
Nor  to  the  last,  with  battle  cry, 

Exultinr,  shout  his  fame! 
Spare  him  the  erime  of  tears   that  Mow, 
A  sipn  of  stiff  rin::  none  should  K 
But  riim  who  tlin^s  aside  the  how, 

And  shrinks  the  hi-and  to  hear, 
Let  not  our  sons  the  weaknes- 
Lest  from  the  foe  in  shame  they  flee, 
And  hy  their  grula  no  longer  fn-e, 

Grow  raptivi-  to  their  fear: 
For  him!  —  I  pity  while  I  s<-oni 
The  trihe  in  whirl)  the  wretrli  was  liorn  ; 

And,  as  I  gaze  around, 
I  i:hd  me  that  mine  a-i'd  eye 

•ne  of  all  who  ^aliier  niph, 
Wlio  duai's  to  lieaj-  ihc  \\  ai  -w  }mo|i'i.  noi.r.d. 

Not  one  who  fears  to  die  '" 

XIV. 

They  rast  ike  prisoner  to  the  ^loiind, 
With  nvvi-s  Irorn  Bel^flbofiog  vines  th'-y 
His  lirow  upon  the  ancient  rock 
They  laid  with  wild  and  hitti-r  mork, 
That  joy'd  to  mark  tin-  di-rp  di-^j-air 

That  moment  in  the  prisoner's  • 
As  slid  :•  -i loft   in  air, 

He  sees  the  Moody  mare   on  hiph  ! 
Hut  not  foi  him  to  plead  in  fear  — 
No  sipn  of  pity  romes  to  rl 
And,  with  one  short  nnwliisper'd  prayer, 

IT    jrleldl  him  tip  to  di«>. 
K'  en    m  '!••    •  '•  •  -  tiia:  wati-h  the  hlow 
Impatient  till  the  hloo.l  shall  flow, 
A  thousand  hearts  that  floating  glow, 

I:i  <  •    hush'tl  : 

The  ami  that  wields  the  nun-e  is  hendiny 
Tlie  i-  •:.  de-<-ein!: 

A  moment,  and  the  mo;:  ('  -ink*, 

G 


!  1-  ,  ilWAitD     110  ! 

;ni. I  tin-  spirit  soars, 
Tin-  cailh  liis  partinp  life-blood  drinki, 

The  spirit  llies  tf>  foreign  shores: 
A  moment! —  and  the  maiden  rtish'd 

:n  llie  low  slum-  where  still  affrighted. 
Scarce  dreaming  what  she-  sees  is  true  — 
With  vision  dim,  with  thoughts  benighted, 
She  snte  as  doom'd  for  slaughter  too;  — 
And  stny'd  the  stroke  in  its  descent, 
While  on  her  childish  knee  she  bent, 
Flings  one  arm  o'er  the  captive's  brow, 

Above  hi«  forehead  lilts  her  own, 
Then  turns  —  with  eye  grown  tc-arless  now 

But  full  of  speech  — as  eye  alone 
Can  speak  to  eye  and  heart  in  prayer— 
For  merry  to  her  father's  throne 
All !  can  she  hope  for  mercy  there  T 

XV. 

And  what  of  him  that  savage  nire  T 

Oh!  surely,  not  in  vain  «he  turns 
To  where  his  glance  of  mortal  ire, 

In  Hri'l  Jigfht  of  anger  bums. 
A  moment  leaps  he  to  his  feet, 

When  first  her  sudden  form  if  »een, 
Across  the  circle  dnrtinir  f1 

The  captive  from  the  stroke  to  acrewi 
Above  his  head,  with  furious  whirl, 

TJ  ••  hatchet  gleams  in  act  to  fly; — 
But,  ud  he  sees  the  kneeling  girl, 

T~iie  pleading  glances  of  her  eye. — 
The  nngel  spirit  of  mercy  waveg 

The  evil  spirit  of  wrath  away, 
And  all  accords,  jere  yet  she  craves 

Of  that  her  eye  alone  ran  pray. 
Strange  is  the  weakness  born  of  lovo, 

That  melts  thr  iron  of  his  soul, 
And  lifts  him  momently  above 

His  pn-sions  and  their  dark  contro?  T 
And  he  who  pity  ne'er  had  shown 

To  captivi-  of  hid  bow  and  spear, 

had  grown 

To  fei-1  tl  at  pity  may  !>«•  •!• 
As  verre-ince  to  the  lienit, —  when  still 

niie  lurking-place,  ami  growt 

Thus  prompted  bv  a  Woman's  will, 

Tiiun.j'iiai.l   <i't>i    .1   liii     . 


•ii'ii.  123 

. 

il  thai  k.-pt  the  rock  was  ri 
As  if  i  '•••']', 

:!ie  M  iy  hirth  of  lipht, 
smile,  I,  .i.i  leam'd  to  leap, 
.•  i's  sii;lit. 

in  old  king  deny 
Tin-  a;  c  i"  her  ey 

H"\v  mo.  k  tl  .•  s\\.  ft  imploring  gracb, 
That  lir.  -atiic.l  in  !..  auly  ii.-ti.  l.rr  : 

tinri  gave 

•••  sooth",  ami  still  »ubdue, 
(Tntil,  though  luinililo  ns  tho  ilavc. 

To  IIKM-I-  than  (jiMMMily  sway  she  grem  f 


Oli  !  1'iH-f  th«-  ilinilit,  —  O!  ihort  th«  strife 

She  wins  th<-  cajifivc'g   forfeit  life. 

Sin-  (H.  >ls  —  she  hi;ls  him  go, 

lol,  hut  her  country's  foe; 
And  dn-arn-  not,  in  that  parting  ). 

;.  vi-s  that  from  hi*  limliB  she  t«*it. 
Are  light  in  weight,  nnd  fnt;l  in  f>ow:, 
To  thot4>  that  round  her  h^art  she  wntrn 


CHAPTER   VIII 

M  ngg  of  the  Old  Dominion. 

WITH  joined  hands,  Smith  and  Pocahontas  conduct  you  natu 
rally  to  Jamestown,  that  abandoned  nest  of  the  Sire  of  Eagles 
.Taines  river  is  one  of  the  classic  regions  of  the  country.  We 
shtiuld  all  of  :  :<*\  a  life,  at  least,  make  it  the  object  of  a 

pilgrimage !  It  is  full  of  associations,  to  say  nothing  of  it  as  a 
fine  spacious  stream,  which,  vhen  a  better  spirit  and  knowledge 
of  farming  shall  prevail  and  a  denser  population  shall  inhabit  its 
borders,  will  berr/rie  a  ?hannel  of  great  wealth,  and  present  a 
throng  of  quiet  beandoc  to  the  eye  wherever  its  currents  wander. 

"  But  the  imputation  of  a  sickly  climate  rests  upon  James 
river/' 

"  This  is  due  wholly  to  the  sparseness  of  the  settlements,  the 
lack  of  drainage,  the  want  of  proper  openings  in  the  woods  for 
the  progress  of  the  winds,  and  to  the  presence  of  a  cumbrous  and 
always  rotting  undergrowth.  Population  will  cure  all  this.  It 
is  doing  it  already.  The  farming  settlements  are  improving,  and 
the  health  of  the  river  is  said  to  be  improving  along  with  them. 
You  will  have  pointed  out. to  you,  along  the  route,  a  number  of 
well-cultivated  plantations,  some  containing  four  or  five  thousand 
B,  which  are  represented  as  being  among  the  best  nian- 
1  and  most  profitable  in  the  state.  With  the  substitution  of 
fanning  for  staple  culture,  this  progress  would  be  rapid." 

"  But  the  genius  of  the  Southron,  particularly  the  Virginian, 
has  always  inclined  more  to  extensive  than  to  careful  cultivation. 
His  aims  were  always  magnificent.  lie  must  have  large  rotates. 
lie  can  not  hear  t.>  !.«•  crowded.  Like  his  cattle,  he  must  get  all 
the  range  he  can  ;  and,  in  the  extn.t  of  his  territory,  he  neg 
lects  its  Improvement  Indeed,  his  f'orc-e,  —  that  is,  his  labor  — 
was  never  equal  to  his  estates.  The  New  York  farmers  havt 


\-\. 

been  farming  upon  hi-  waste  domains.  Their  policy  differs  from 
his  in  <>m>  es-ential  particular.  The-  the  enr  . 

which  ho   ditVi:  <-v  require  but    small  territory,  an<l   ' 

make  the  mo<t  of  it  Land-  \\liich,  in  the  hands  of  the  Virgin 
ian,  were  no  l  tobncco,  the New-Toikcw  1 

limed  for  wheat  ;   and  what  he  sold  at  .1  dollar  per  acre,  in  main 
r.'inmand  seventy-live  dollars.     The  characti  i 

of  the  Southron    is   hold    and    adventurous.      This    leads    him  t<. 
prefer  the  wandering  to  the   stationary  life.      lie 
HKMit,  and  prefers  the  varieties  and  the  vicissitudes  of  the  f 
to  the  tame  drudgerv  of  the  t'armstead.      Hi-  mi.--i"n    is  thai 
a  pioneer.      '!'!.••  .-ami'  farmer  who  now  makes  his  old  tields  flour 
ish  in  -rain,  thirty  bushels  to  the  acre,  would  never  have,  set  fo-.t 
in  the   country,  until   the   hrave   Virginian   had   cleared    it  of  it.i 

inhahitants,  the  wild  Least,  and  the  red  man." 
••  .lames  river  conducts  you  to  Jamestown.     Jamestown   and 
\ntru>tine  are  ainon^r  the  oldest  landmarks  of  civilization  in 
'•.-Norman  A:;  '    MI  approach  hoth,  if  properly  minded, 

with  l:ec.»min--  \eneration.  The  site  of  ,Iame>t..wn  is  an  island. 
connected  hy  a  hrid^e  with  the  main.  The  spot  is  rather  a  pleas 
ing  than  an  impoxini;-  one.  It  was  chosen  evidently  with  regard 
to  two  c;  in  invasion  by  the  sea.  and  yet  an 

communication   with   it   when   desirable.     Here,  squat   and 
hidden  like  a  sea-t'-wl  about  to  lay  i.  aped 

the  vigilant  eyes  and  i<  .  ursuit.  of  the  hungry  Spaniard." 

"  What   l  iu>tability  of  national    power 

is  the  fact,  that,  at  tliis  day,  this    power  has  no  longer  the  capa- 
fo  harm.      In    the    time  of  Klixabeth,  the  Spaniard  was   the 
woi!  Ti^r  Shark.      Now,  he  is  little  better  than  a  .-kip- 

jack    in    the    maw  of  that  Hetienioth  of  the  nations,  whose 
.  th   he   certainly  did   something  to   retard.      In   the  tin. 
Roundhead  authority,  the  Dutch  were  a  sort  of  corpulent  sword- 

"f  the  sea;     now    you    may  better  liken    them   to  the,  g 
la/.y  tin-.:  .  whom    more  adroit  ad\  turn 

upon  their   backs  to  be  gathered    up    at    lei.-ure.      Hoth  of  t 

us    may  find    their    re\  position    in   «  ther 

I,  when  t!  |  by  which   they  were  overcome  shall  fall 

into  their  errors,  and  contrive,  through  sheer  blindiR^s,  their  own 
emasculation." 


126  SOUTHWARD    HO! 

"Did  you  ever  read  'Purchns,  his  Pilgrims?'  He  has  a  de 
scription  of  Jamestown  in  1610,  written  by  William  Strachey. 
If  you  are  curious  to  see  it,  I  Lave  it  in  my  berth,  and  marked 
the  passage  only  this  morning." 

Some  curiosity  being  expressed,  the  book  was  brought,  and 
the  extract  read.  It  may  possibly  interest  others,  in  this  con 
nection,  to  see  where  the  first  tree  was  hewn  in  the  New  World 
l>y  the  hands  of  the  Anglo-Norman. 

"  A  low  levell  of  ground  about  lialfe  an  acre,  or  (so  much  as 
Quecne  Dido  might  buy  of  King  Hyarbtis,  which  she  compassed 
about  with  the  thongs  cut  out  of  one  bull's,  and  therein  built  her 
castle  of  Byrsa)  on  the  North  side  of  the  river  is  cast  almost  into 
the  forme  of  a  triangle,  and  so  pallazadoed.  The  South  side 
next  the  river  (howbeit  extended  in  a  line,  or  curtaine  six  score 
foote  more  in  lengthe,  than  the  other  two  by  reason  of  the  ad 
vantages  of  the  ground  doth  so  require),  contains  one  hundred 
and  forty  yards :  the  West  and  East  side  a  hundred  only.  At 
eveiy  angle  or  comer,  where  the  lines  meet,  a  bulwarke  or 
watchtower  is  raised,  and  in  each  bulwarke  a  piece  of  ordnance 
or  two  well  mounted.  To  every  side,  a  proportionate  distance 
from  the  pallisado,  is  a  settled  streete  of  houses,  that  runs  along, 
so  as  each  line  of  the  angle  hath  his  streete.  In  the  midst  is  a 
market  place,  a  storehouse  and  a  corps  du  garde,  as  likewise  a 
pretty  chappelle,  though  (at  this  time  when  we  came  in)  as  ruin 
ed  and  unfrequented:  but  the  Lord,  Governor  and  Captaino 
Generall,  hath  given  order  for  the  repairing  of  it,  and  at  this  in 
stant  many  hands  are  about  it.  It  is  in  lengthe  three-score 
fimte,  in  breadth  twenty-four,  and  shall  have  a  chancell  in  it  of 
cedar,  and  a  communion  table  of  the  blacke  wajnut —  and  all  the 
prws  of  cedar,  with  fair  broad  windows,  to  shut  and  open,  as  the 
weather  shall  occasion:  a  pulpit  of  the  same  wood,  with  a  four 
hewn  hollow  like  a  canoa ;  with  two  bells  at  the  West  end.  It 
is  so  cast  as  it  be  very  light  within,  and  the  Lord  Governor  and 
:aine  Generall  doth  cause  it  to  be  passing  sweete  and  trim 
med  up  with  divers  flowers;  —  with  a  sexton  belonging  to  it." 

"So  much  for  the  Church  —  the  first  English  Church,  be  it 
remembered,  ever  raised  in  America.  This  should  render  the 
description  an  interesting  one.  And  now  something  for  the  usei 
to  which  it  was  put.  We  see  tint  St  aHiey  found  it  in  a  ruinoui 


OP    VIIir.lNM.  127 

condition.      Thi>  was  in   l''.U».      Y«<i  are  n«»t  t  tliat  the. 

ruin  of  tlu-    chinch    arose    from    the    neglect    of  the  worslm 

It  WEI  rather  tlu-  roult  of  tin-  more  pressing  mi-fortunes  of   the 

C(,lli:  -  I  by  Lord  Delaware  in  1609,  who 

hrou-lit  witli  liini  a  ho.st  of  profligate  adventurers,  lome  of  whom 
Smith  ha«l  sent  out  of  tin-  colony,  tied  neck  and  he-Is,  as  crimi 
nals.  Ir  was  an  evil  augury  to  him  and  to  tho  colony  that  they 
hrouirht  'hack.  They  hrought  with  thorn  faction,  confusion, 
and  misery.  Insurrection  followed  —  the  Indians  revolted  and 
commenced  the  work  of  indiscriminate  massacre,  and  the  church 
and  religion  necessarily  suflered  all  the  disasters  which  had  he- 
fallen  society.  Hut,  with  the.  restoration  <>f  the  church  under 
ware,  let  us  see  what  followed.  Our  Puritans  make  a  great 
outcry  about  their  devotions.  They  are  perpetually  raising  their 
ram*'  horns,  perhaps  (piite  as  much  in  the  hope  of  hrin^injr  down 
the  walls  of  their  neii:hh<  'th  the  passion  of  religion. 

Our  Virginia   col-:  t    very  little  of  what   they  did    in  the 

way   of  devotion.      Let    us    hear    Strachey  still    further  on    this 
suliject  : — 

\  Sunday  we  have  sermons  twice  a  day,  and  every 
Thursday  a  sermon  —  having  two  preachers  which  take  their 
M  ekely  turnes — and  every  morning  at  the  ringing  of  a  hell. 
ahouf  ten  of  the  rlneke,  each  man  addresseth  himself  to  prayers, 

-,  at  four  of  the  clocke.  hefore  supper.' 

••  Verily,  hut  few  of  the  '  <ruid    folk'  of  Virginia  or  New  Enir- 
lan  i  :Ve«juent    now-a-days    at    their   religious   exercises! 

The  authorities  of  Virginia  set  the  examjde  :  — 

;nday,  wlien  the  Lord  (Jovernor  and  Captain  den 
rrall    ir..cth   to   church,  he  is  accompanied  with  all  the  ('ounsail- 
rlams,  other  otlU-ers,  and   all   the  gentlemen,  and  with  a 
jruanl  "f  Halherdi«-r>.  in  his  lonl>hip'  faire  red  cloak 

the    nnmlxM'   of  iift\  .  lioth   on    each    side    and   hehind   him  :    and 
heiiiir  in    the   church,  his  lordship   hath    his   seate    in   the    (j 
m    a    preen    velvet    chair,  with    a   cloath,  with   a  velvet  cushion 
id  on  a  tahle  hefore  him  on  which  he  kneeleth,  and  on  each 
-'.\  the  C.ninsell.  Captain.-,  and  ollicers,  each  in  their  place  ; 
and  when  In-  returneth  home  a^ain.  he  i^  waited  on  to  his  house 
in  the  same  manner.' 

"Something  Mately,  these  dovo»i.ms,  hut  they  were  those 


128  SOUTHWARD    110  ! 

the  times,  ami  of — tlio  politician.  Religion  lias  a  twofold  as 
pect,  and  concerns  society  as-  well  as  (lie  individual,  though  not 
in  the  same  degree.  And  this,  would  you  believe  it,  was  just 
ten  years  before  the  Puritans  landed  at  Plymouth.  Our  Vir 
ginians  were  clearly  not  wholly  regardless  of  those  serious  per 
formances  which  their  more  youthful  neighbors,  farther  East, 
claim  pretty  much  to  have  monopolized.  But  to  return.  It 
may  intere.st  many  renders  to  see  what  Strachey  further  says  of 
the  ancient  city  of  Jamestown. 

••  '  The  houses  first  raised  were  all  burnt,  by  a  casualty  of  fire, 
the  beginning  of  the  second  year  of  their  siat  [settlement]  and  in 
the  second  voyage  of  Captain  Newport;  which  have  been  bet 
ter  rebuilted,  though  as  yet  in  no  great  uniformity,  either  for  the 
fashion  or  the  beauty  of  the  streete.  A  delicate  wrought  fine 
kind  of  mat  the  Indian*  make,  with  which  (as  they  can  be 
tracked  for,  or  xnatc/icd.  ////*)  our  people  so  dress  their  chambers 
and  inward  rooms,  which  make  their  homes  so  much  the  more 
handsome.  The  houses  have  large  and  wide  country  chimnies 
in  the  which  is  to  be  supposed  (in  such  plenty  of  wood)  what 
fires  are  maintained  ;  and  they  have  found  the  way  to  cover 
their  houses,  now  (as  the  Indians),  with  barkes  of  trees,  as  du 
rable  and  good  proofs  against  stormes  and  winter  weather  as  the 
best  tyle,  defending  likewise  the  piercing  sunbeams  of  summer 
and  keeping  the  inner  lodgings  coole  enough  which  before 
would  be  in  sultry  weather  like  stoves,  whilst  they  were,  as  at 
first,  pargetted  and  plaistered  with  bitumen  or  tough  clay  ;  and 
thus  armed  for  the  injury  of  changing  times,  and  seasons  of  the 
the  year,  we  hold  ourselves  well  apaid,  though  wanting  array 

*  This  matching  up  bothered  us  in  the  case  of  a  people  so  dovout  in  their 
attendance  upon  church,  but,  turning-  to  the  Journal  of  the  Plymouth  Pilgrims 
Cheever'sjwe  found  at  their  V«TV  first  entrance  upon  Indian  land  a  similar  case 
>f  snatching  op,  which  proves  the  practice  to  have  been  noways  improper, 
t\fii  it  not  exactly  religious.  At  page  34,  we  read,  that  our  belovtvl  Pilgrims 
oiind  wheie  the  "  naked  salvages'1  had  put  away  a  basket  of  come,  four  or  five 
ruahell  "  We  were  iii  suspense  what  to  do  with  it,"  says  our  simple  chroni- 
ler,  hut  the  long  and  short  of  the  suspense  and  consultation  resulted  in  their 
nking  off  the  commodity  —  ir.  oilier  words,  "snatching  up,"  which  they  did. 
»vith  the  avowed  determination  if  they  ever  met  with  the  owner  to  satisfy  him 
for  his  grain  Our  Viiyinians,  I  fancy,  did  their  snatching  precisely  on  the 
tame  terms. 


cox  ;-.M"AHi)\TAS.  129 

hniu  ;!lded    Venetian    cordovan,    or    more 

•e  household  garniture,  and  wanton  city  ornaments,  remem- 
herini:  the  old  Kpijrraph — 

\\'«-  ilw.-lt  nut  lii-if  to  luiihi  us  Rnnies 
Arnl  Hjills  fur  !>!• 
•   1 1. ills  \\o  l.nil.l  (",.!•  111  an.l  mirs 
To  ilwHl  in  tin" 

"  Tin-   I'uritai.x  eonld  nut  have  expressed  themselvOfl  more  de 
voutly,     lit:  ts  to  stimulate  into  eloquence  a  thousand 

annual    self-applausive    orators,   i'ov   a   thou-a    d    rears   to   come. 

I  t  tbUw&fi  the  jircvailin^  spirit  ..!'  thi»e  who  gave  tone  to  the 
fiilnny,  and  not  the  sentiments   of  a    >in^le   in^ividiial,  hear  fur 
ther  of  the  manner  in  which  that  most  excellent  ruler,  the  Lord 

II  mare.  fn>t  made  his  approaches  t<»  the  colony,      rr!ii.>, 

inhered,  was   in   1(310,  ten   years   hef.ire   tlie    IMynmuth  pil- 

B  hrou^ht  reli^iMn  to  the  henijrhted  West:  — 

"  'Upon  bU  hardship's  landinjr.  at  the.  south  -rate  of  the  Palle- 

sado  (\vl7ich    h-oks    into   the   ri\er)  our  governor  caused  his  com- 

jiany  to   -'and  in  order  and  make  a  jruard.      It  jileased  him  that 

I  [William  Btrachej  •  ^Ir-uld  besr  his  colonn  for  that  time:  — 

!"i-(lship  landinjr,  fell  uj)on  his  knees,  and  before  us  all 
made  a  Ion--  and  silent  prayer  t«>  himself,  and  after  Marching  np 
into  the  town:  when  at  the  «rate,  1  howed  with  the  colours  and 
h-t  them  fall  at  his  Lordship's  feet,  who  pai-.-cd  into  the  chajiellc, 
where  lie  heard  a  sermon  hy  M..  '  Bucko,  our  Governor's 
preacher.' 

•   To    pi-ay    to    himself,    perhaps,    was    not    altogether    in    the 

.  eli^'inn    \\hich   some   portions   of  our 

countiy  BO  h>ve  to  enlo-i/e  ;    hut  methinks  it  was  not  had  for  »mr 

•  nior,  whom   their  hetter  nei^hlnuirs  weir 
Mipp  r  prayed  at  all.      Hut   they  worki 

praxr    .    tln'x-    p.llirkii        ',  ians  :    and    their    works    .survive 

them.      The    eon\  er>ion    of   I'orahontas  —  the   possession   of  that 

bl  creature  nf  a  wild  humanity  —  has  l.een  lon^  since  ei,- 
to  Vi  all  the  ..ther  Takfl    th«  account  of  her 

com,  rgj      Thoinas  Dale  : — 

i  •  tad  in 

the    '  \\iio     after    she    had    made,    some    | 

i  therein,  .  ;hlickly    her  Conir  ,iry 


130  SOiTii'.v A [;D   no  . 

openly  confessed  her  Ohri>tiau   Faith,  was,  ns  she  desired,  bap- 
•i.  and  is  since  married  to  an  Knglish  Gentleman  of  good  un- 
itanding —  as  liy  his  letter  unto  me,  containing  the  reasons 
..f  his    marriage   unto  her,  yon  may  perceive.      Another  knot  to 
hind  the  knot  the  .stronger.     Her  father  and  friends  gave,  appro 
bation  of  it,  and   her  uncle  gave  her  to  him  in  the  Church  :   she 
lives  civilly  and  lovingly  with   him,  and  I  trust  will  increase   in 
•he  knowledge  of  God  increaseth  in  her.     She  will 
into  England  with  mee,  and  were   it  but  the  gaining  of 
.-ucli.    I    will    think  my  time,  toile,  and  present    stay,  well 
spent ' 

11  Enough  of  our  old  chronicler  for  a  single  sitting.  T  trust 
i he  taste  will  lead  to  further  readings:  too  little  is  really  known 
of  niir  early  histories.  We  gather  the  leading  facts,  perl 

Q  the  miserable  abridgments  that  flood  the  country,  and  too 
frequently  pervert  the  truth  ;  but,  at  best,  the  tone,  the  spirit 
of  the  history  is  sadly  lacking.  We  want  books  which  shall  not 
only  see  the  doings  of  our  fathers,  but  trace  and  appreciate 
their  sympathies  and  feelings  also.  But  the  bell  rings  for  sup 
per,  and  the  captain  signalizes  us  with  an  especial  leer  and 
wave  of  the  hand.  With  you  in  a  moment,  Senor,  as  soon  as  I 
have  laid  old  Purchas  on  his  ^  illow." 


CHAPTER    IX. 

T<  •'!!«»  Iciltin^  off  you  ki 


•  (  1  4^  lingers  thoughtfully  among  the  ruins  of  Jamestown.  It 
is,  of  <>'»urse,  the  mere  ntt  which  will  now  interest  you  in  its  con- 
t»'mp.atM>u.  There  is  little  or  notlii'  Men.  It  is  the  as 

sociation  only.  ./*  Iwi,  that  offers  provocation  to  the  con- 

temp!ati\  •«•  spirit.  Von  hcholil  nothing  hut  an  empty  and  hmg- 
ahandoned  nest  ;  hut  it  is  the  nest  of  one  of  tliose  maternal  hinls 
whoso  prolific  nature  has  filled  the  nations.  The  ruins  which 
•nesto\\n  consist  only  of  a  single  tower  of  the  old 
church.  In  the  dense  coppice  near  it,  you  see  the  ancient  piles 
which  cover  the  early  dead  of  the  settlement.  The  tower 
somewhat  picturesque-  object  by  itself,  though  it  depends  for  its 
charm  chiefly  on  its  historical  associations.  It  is  enough  of  the 
ruin  f«>r  the  romantic,  and,  >een  by  moonlight,  the  arrhe.s  and 
the  ••  UMitl  "f  ruin,"  through  which  ivy  and  lichen,  shrub  and 
make  their  appearance,  are  object-  which  fancy  will 
find  preciou>  tut!  \er  turn  the  pages  of  our 

musty  chronicles,  and  hear  in.  thing  <>f  the  mournful  whispers  of 
the  j.a-t.      Wh.-it  >t..rrs  of  tradition,  wild    song  and  wild. 
are  yet    to  be    turned  up  with    the    soil  of  this   neighborhood,  or 
laid    b.,i-e  in  the   search  among   the    ruins   of  this  ancient    tower. 
'K.  what  a  fascinating   history  would    it  reveal. 

\\  ;    ,t    *l..rions   traditions    ought    to   invest    the    locality.       What 
memoi  o>  are  awakened    by  it-  simple   mention.      What    pictures 

paint  to  the  fancy  and  the  thought!" 

11  T  -  kii,.  of  trt  litioni  •  f  the  •  (  )l\  Dominion,'  I  am  reminded 
6    vhicli  was  told  me  many  .  by  a  fellow  travelh-r, 

as  we     ursue.!  up  .James  ii\  er.      1  1  «    ':      -;.-d  that    there 

were  {     od  authorities  for  the  story   which   I    had   rashly  imp 
t<>  lii'j      »u  invention.      lie  \\  a-  one  of  those  persons  \\  hu    i.« 


l-'->2  FOUTHWARD  no; 

scruple  at  a  manufacture  of  tlicir  own,  -vlip»  the  tiling  want  <1 
is  not  exactly  ready  to  their  hands,  and  I  dare  not  answer  fur 
the  chronicle." 

"  Let  us  have  it  by  all  means." 

The  ladies  seconded  the  entreaty,  and  our  fellow-voyager  began 

41  You   are  awarr,"   said   he.  "  that   in   the  early  settlement   of 
Virginia,  as  perhaps  in  the   case  nf  all  colonists  in   a  new  coun 
try,  tlr.-re  is  always  at  firM  <i  lamentable  dearth  of  women.      The 
pioneers  were  greatly  at  a  hi>s  \\hat  t«>  do  for  wives  and   IIOI-M- 
keepers.     Nothing  could  be  more  distressing." 

"As  Campbell  sings  it,  of  a  more  select  region  — 

''Tin-  world  was  sad,  thr  g;mlc!i  w;is  a  wild, 

And  man  the  liermil  siglit-d  —  till  woman  smili-d.' " 

"  Precisely  !  Our  Virginians  felt  particularly  lonesome  along 
the  wildernesses  of  James  river,  as  is  the  case  even  now  with 
our  Californians  along  the  Sacramento  and  other  golden  waters." 
"  Nay,  they  are  much  more  charitable  now.  The  gold  re 
gions  are  not  so  barren  of  beauty  as  you  think.  This  may  be 
owing  to  the  greater  safety  of  the  enterprise.  In  1600  a  youn<; 
woman  incurred  some  peril  of  losing  a  scalp  while  seeking  a 
swain  in  the  territories  of  that  fierce  Don  of  Potomacke,  Pow- 
hatan." 

"  The  danger  certainly  was  of  a  sort  to  demand  consideration. 
It  was  one  which  the  old  girls  might  be  permitted  to  meditate 
almost  as  cautiously  as  the  young  ones.  At  all  events,  our 
4  guid  folk'  in  the  Old  Dominion  felt  the  need  of  a  supply,  the 
demand  being  no  less  earnest  than  pressing.  They  commissioned 
their  friends  and  agents  in  England  to  supply  their  wants  with 
all  despatch,  making  the  required  qualifications  as  moderate  and 
few  as  possible,  the  better  to  insure  the  probability  of  being  pro 
vided.  The  proprietaries,  after  a  solemn  counsel  together,  ar 
rived  at  the  conclusion  that  the  requisition  was  by  no  means  an 
unreasonable  one ;  a  conclusion  to  which  they  arrived  more 
readily  from  the  great  interest  which  their  own  wives  rc.-jicct- 
ively  took  in  the  discussion.  EfTorts  were  accordingly  made 
for  meeting  the  wishes  of  the  colonists.  Advertisements,  which, 
it  is  said,  are  still  to  be  found  in  the  news  organs  of  the  day  — 
put  forth  in  London  and  elsewhere,  announcing  the  nature 
of  the  demand  and  soliciting  the  supply.  Much,  <>f  W  in>e,  was 


I 

g.iid  in  ta  utv  ami  res.-urces  "f  tin-  cmmtry  in  \\liicli 

Murli  al.s..  d   in 

tiers,  who.se  demand*  wen-    nn.st    ur 
health  ami   body, very  able  and  dil 
:    moral    and    inns.  1  ('  maintaining 

rlnnrli   and   state,  and   contributing   in   a   thousand  ways   to   tlio 
of  both.*       Certain   of  them    w<  ially 

.'died  with  names  given,  m-t  omitting  sundry  c..gent  particu 
lar*  in  respect  to  tlieir  moneyed  means,  employments,  and  general 
worldly  condition.      In    l.riet',  al)le-l)(.died,  \vell-linilM-d    and  well- 
iiien,  were  assnn-d  of  finding   themselves  well 
!:ed    and    lionoral.ly  housed    within    the    sxlvaii    paradise   of 
batan,  a-  MH»H  a.s   they  should    arrive.      '1'lie  advertisements 
jiriidently    t'"i'  UJM.II    any    special    eertiiieates — .so 

•    when  housemaids  are  to  he  cli«'>en  —  of  character  and 
mani-'Ts.      A  .small  hounty,  indeed,  was  offered  with   outfit    and 

entle  hearts  and  Christian  charities  of  the 
made    in    vain.      A   goodly    numher    soon    off 
thru.  .  the  adventure,  most  of  whom  were  supposed  likely 

to  meet  the  wishes  of  the  hungry  colonists.      The  .standards 

_'u  —  the   commissioners,  appreciating   the  self-.sacri- 
icin-    Spirit  Whkh  governed    the  dam-el  —  were  not   disposed   to 

.acting.    Thrre  were  some  of  the  damsels  of  much  and  dec 
,,th  —  Mime  were  distinguished  nioie  hy  >\s.c  than  sweet: 

—  th-'iigh  ih'-y  m«'de>tly  t'orehore  to  do  so — this 
\  tof  their  ripe  antiquity  ;  none 

of   t:  HMiiarkaMe    f"r    th«-ir    heauty,  hut    as    all    pa. 

:,is   ti.pii-  —  t'".  no  doubt  good  emmgh 

in  ti.  -we  \\ill    not    make  it    a    subject    of  discu>^ion  in 

,  about  whom  the 
i-oini.  came    to    a  dead   pau>«-  —  an    absolute   halt  —  and 

linallv  t  i.-newal  of  their  deliberation*. 

B  party  thus  in  dai  .  ji-ftioii,  wa>  comely  enough  to 

ilu-  .  .  ling   to  the  itaildardl  adopted   in  the  general  rec- 

t'mn    <»f    appl'-  3  fair    enough,    ami     strong 

enough,  and    there    c-uM    l.r    n»   doubt    that    she  was    quite    old 
enough,  but  tin  .    -t  quite  enough  of  her. 

leg  ! 


134  ill  WARD    IK)! 

"Was  tliis  a  disqualification  or  not?  That  was  the  difficult 
question.  When  iir.-t  presenting  herself,  it  was  obser\  ed  that 
she  liati  advanced  a  foot.  The  foot  was  a  good  one  —  a  foot  of 
six<«  and  character,  and  the  leg  which  accompanied  it,  and  of 
which  more  was  exhibited  than  was  absolutely  necessary  to  the 
niination,  was  admitted  to  lie  an  unobjectionable  leg.  Hut 
soinelio\v,  one  ,,1'  the  commissioners  begged  h>ave  to  see  the  other. 
This  literally  'ccasioned  a  halt.  In  place  of  the  required  ineni- 
her,  she  thru.-t  i';>rward  a  stick  of  Knglish  oak,  which  might  have 
served  to  sjilice  the  bowsprit  of  a  Baltimore  clipper. 

"Their  i  .-ation  —  a  decided  sensation.     The  commis 

sioners  were   tak«  a  all   ahack.     They  hemmed  and   hawed.     A 
-ideration  01  the  peculiar  case  was  necessary. 

"  '  My   good    woman,'    quoth  one   of  the  commissioners,  who 
served  as  .spokesman.     'You  have  but  one  leg.' 

•• '  You  see,  your  honor.    But  it's  sure  I  shall  be  less  apt  to  run 
away  from  the  guid  man.' 

"  '  True  ;    but  whether  that  consideration  will  be  sufficient  to 
reconcile  him  to  the  deficiency.' 

••  •  Why  not?'  answered  the  fair  suitor,  'seeing  that  I  am  A 
woman  for  all  that.' 

"  '  But  you  are  not  a  perfect  woman.' 

••  •  Will  your  honor  be  so  good  as  to  mention  if  you  ever  did 
with  a  perfect  woman  ?' 

"  This  was  a  poser.  The  commissioners  were  men  of  expe 
rience.  They  had  seen  something  of  the  world.  They  were 
all  women's  men.  The  woman  was  too  much  for  them.  They 
went  again  into  consultation.  The  question  was  a  serious  one. 
Could  a  woman  be  a  cotitjilcfr  woman  —  a  perfect  one  was  not 
now  the  question  —  who  had  but  a  single  leg?  The  subject  of 
discussion  was  reduced  to  this  :  what  are  the  requisites  of  a  wife 
in  Virginia?  The  result  was,  that  they  resolved  to  let  the 
woman  g<>,  and  take  her  chance.  They  could  not  resist  a  will 
BO  determined.  They  were  naturally  dubious  whether  any  of 
the  sturdy  adventurers  in  the  realm  of  Powhatan  would  be  alto 
gether  willing  to  .»plice  with  a  lame  damsel  not  particularly 
'harming,  or  attractive  in  any  re>pect  :  but  women  for  such  an 
expedition  were  not  in  excess.  The  demand  from  James  river 
for  wives  was  exceedingly  urgent ;  the  won  in's  frankness  pie 


THK    LA  Mi:    Dl  136 

i  nr  comr  ,  anil    lior  confidei:.  finally  oneour- 

!    them  with  a  similar  hone  ->\\   her  heh.ilf.     Thev  ^ave   her 
tin-  ;  funds  an  '.rtially  persuaded  tli.it  — 

4  '  Th 

:<T  for  licr 

\nd  the  cripple  went  on  her  way  swimmingly." 

tilled   the    faith   ,>f  the  legless   damsel    in  the  bounty  of 

.it  was  tin-  rejoicing  in  James  river,  wl.cn 

••1  (rearing   Kn-li.-Ii  colon  .  g  np 

the    stream.      They    Knew  what    they    had    to    expect,  and    < 

eajrer    fi»r   his   prize.      The    stunt   yeomanry  of  Jamestown 
turned  or/  /•,  each  ii  me  and  behavior  ;   and 

his    flii)!.  •  a  wife  is  al\\ 

.  the   sul'j  me  choice,  each    \\  ;is   to 

the    ship  in  advance  of   his  comrade.-.      N. 

there  such  a  scramhle.      W:  .  in  demand   and  value;   and 

hut  little  time  \va>  consumed   in  |    paired,  and, 

:wo,   returning    from    t:  1   to    the    shore.       How 

departed  —  our  hrave    adventurers,  each  with    his 

.nmodity    tucked    under    his    arm  !       The    supply    fell 

short  of  the  demand.      There  \\  tireil  with  .-ad 

:s,  and  lom-ly  as  they  came.      All  were  snatched  up  except 

our  lame  -irl  ;    hut  she  was  not  the    person  to  despair.      She  put 

on  ht  .ilcs,  as   the  unsii|  .  circled    al-out 

her.      They  had   i.  :i  to  her  face.      Her  smiles  \\vie  siif- 

•Ahicli    >he   in 

pinker   up    in  ier  her   petticoats.      The  truth  had 

leaked  out;    and  it  \\.i-  'I'lmu^h  -!y  in  \\ant   .»f 

the    lurniture  •  old,  it  was    rather 

••'jnire   «HU  \     I  inians  to 

couple  with  a  '  hut  on,-  le-  ;    ami  after  circling  her  with 

.  half-doubting  wh  at  length  dis- 

ride 

;  for  our  lame  duck  het 
i    nnpr«»mi-in^  ;    hut  Fortune,  amid   all  hei  hlindnesses  and 

litne  !  happened   that  there  wa-  a  cohhler  in  tin 

a  N\  ith   i 


136  S'JUTii\VAi:i>  no! 

that  he  had  no  leg  at  all.  lie,  J  oor  fellow,  needing  a  wife  A3 
much  as  any  of  the  rest,  hail  hut  little  hope  of  having  his  wants 
Supplied  hy  the-  present  consignment.  It  was  doubtful  whether 
he  could  have  ventured  to  hope  under  .ny  circumstances — 
stil!  more  ahsunl  to  hope  \\hen  tiie  .supply  ^  us  .-mall,  the  seek 
ers  many,  and  all  in  the  market  before  himsei:'.  Ai.d  when  he 
saw  those  returning  who  had  failed  to  secure  companions,  h,> 
naturally  gave  up  all  notion,  if  he  had  ever  dared  to  entertain 
any,  of  gratifying  his  domestic  ambition.  But  as  these  disap 
pointed  adventurers  crossed  him  on  their  return,  and  saw  the 
wistful  eyes  which  he  cast  upon  the  vessel,  they  lade  him  deri 
sively  go  and  seek  his  fortune. 

"'Xow's  your  chance,  old  1'ellow!'  He  MMMI  gathered  the 
intelligence,  and  at  tirM  his  soul  revolted  at  the  idea  of  coupling 
with  a  lame  woman. 

"  '  A  woman,'  said  he  to  himself,  •  gains  enough  when  s: 
a  husband.     She  ought  to  he  finished    at  the  least.     Nothing 
should  he  wanting.' 

"  But  a  moment's  reflection  made  him  more  indulgent,  lie 
sei/ed  his  crutches  and  made,  toward  the  vessel.  Then  lie  he- 
thought  hiniM-lf  again  and  made  toward  his  cahin.  But  the 
tempter  prevailed,  and  he  hohhled  slowly  forward.  With  help 
he  was  at  length  brought  into  the  vessel  and  the  presence  of 
the  waiting  spinster. 

"  She  had  been  long  enough  on  the  anxious  benches.  They 
had  been  a  sort  of  torture  to  her  patience  as  well  as  her  hope. 

••  '  Why,'  said  he  —  as  if  only  now  apprized  of  her  deficiency  — 
you've  got  but  one  leg.' 

" '  And  you've  got  none,'  she  answered  pertly. 

"This  threw  him  into  a  cold  .sweat.  He  now  feared  that  he 
should  lose  his  pri/e.  •  What  of  that  ?'  said  he  — '  better  a  lame 
donkey  than  no  horse.  Is  it  a  match?  I'M  for  you.' 

"  It  was  now  her  time  to  demur.  She  walked  all  round  him, 
he  wheeling  about  the  while  with  the  utnn  >t  possible  effort,  to 
show  how  agile  he  could  he,  legless  or  not.  The  man  was  good- 
looking  enough,  M/////.V  his  pins;  and  after  a  painful  pause  —  to 
one  of  the  partiel  at  least  —  she  gave  him  her  hand. 

"The  cobbler's  rapture  was  complete.  A  chair  was  slung 
down  the  .ship's  .side.  Scarcely  had  this  been  done  wher 


• 
MA'li  HI. I'    AS    Wlil.t.    Afl    PAIUKD. 

one  of  tin-  former  '  L     He  was  n<.\v  willing  to 

tin-  lame  daniM-1  ;    hut  our  cuhhler  MiiVered    no  time   for 
liherati"ii.      He  did    n<»t  dan  li>l«   generosity  in 

leaving  it   to  her  \»  cho,,.ve  hetwecn  tin-  two. 

••  II;     eh.'h-r  WM  r«>u>ed.      It  W*M    ///*  !><•( rothed    to  \vli«»in    the 

and.    with    a    tremendous    flourish    of   one    of    his 

crutche^.  our  cripple  made  at  the  intruder.      This  demonstration 

irtfl    MitVu-it-nt.      II.-  u.-is  ;illowr«l   to  retain   liis   jiri/e.      The  i-an- 

liidnte   hurrie.l    olV,  i-ooling    liis  thirst   with  whatcv.-r   j.hilosophy 

he   could    muster.      When  the  hiidal  t«)ok    phiee,  many  W6T6  the, 

at    the    exju  n-e    "f   "iir  cri|ij)le    counle.      Kvcn    the    jiriesr 

wh.i  united  them  wa>  not  unwilling  to  >hare  in  the  humor  of  the 

scene,  making  j»un>  upon  the  ocea^idi,  Mirli  as  have  heen  i-lH-aji- 

eneil  >..me\\  hat  hv  a  t««o  iVcMjucnt  circulation. 

M(I  known      .  lid, '  whether  y«n  can  prop 

erly    Contract     marriage,    >e»'in^    that    \«m    hntli    lack    sutlicient 

nndentanding.1 

"'X«>  man  ^lumhl  marry  with  a  woman,' >aid  one  of' the  >jiec- 

.tdies  the  utter  QgeleSfflieU  of  his  own  vacation.' 
'"  And  why  they    >lmuld    he    married    under   a    Cliri>tian 

:'i,,n.   1    can    DO<    BOO,'   WM    the   comment  of  a  third,  '  set'ing 
that  neither  of   them  are  prepared    to    pve    proper  heed  to  their 

••  •  It  will    1)0  a  marriage  to   hind,'  said    a   fourth,  'seeing  that 
neither  can  well  run  away  from  the  other.' 

She    won't    trouhle    him    lonjj:,'   said    he    who    had    come   a 
moment  tOO  late,  — '  >he  ha>  already  one  foot  in  the  grave.' 
••The  crutch  of  the  cripple  \va>  a«rain  uplifted. 

•   I1  ,1    he,  '  make    us    fa>t,  please,  OS    80OI1    as    possi- 

hle.       I   rei-kt.n,  if  there's  hut  "lie  h-g  hetween  us,  there's  no  law 
a;_rin  "ur  children  li.iving  a  full  complement.' 

"  Whereat  the  hetn-thed    ldu.»hed  prettily,  and    the  ceremony 

oded." 

(  hir    ccmpanion's   nanati\e    ini«rht    he   all    true,    for   what    we 
know.       1  ntfl  were  all  jirohahle  enough.      Hut    the    Mory 

rather    whet    than     pacified    the    ap,  'her    lege- 

called  for.  and  the  following    le^en.!  «•!'    N'mice,  f.  unded    also  on 
;ed  to  that  of  the  Virginian. 


SOUTHWARD    UO! 

• 
THE    BRIDE   OF    FATE. 

CHAPTER    I 

I  r  was  a  glad  day  in  Venice.     The  eve  of  the  Feast  of  the 
Purification  had  arrived,  and  all  those  maidens  of  the  Republic, 
whose   names   had   been   written   in   the  "Book  of  Gold,"  were 
iiibh-d  with  their  parents,  their  friends  and  h.vers  — a  beau 
tiful  and  joy. .us  crowd  —  repairing,  in  the  gondolas   provided  by 
the  Republic,  to  the  church  of  San  Pietro  di  Castella,  at  OK 
which  was  the  residence  of  the  patriarch.      This  place  W&B  on  the 
eme  verge  «fthe  city,  a  beautiful  and  isolated   spot,  its  pre- 
ciiicls  almost  without  inhabitants,  a  ghostly  and  small  priesthood 
<-ptcd,  whose   grave    habits  and   taciturn  seclusion  seemed    to 
an    additional   aspect  of  solitude   to  the   neighborhood.     It 
a   solitary  and  sad-seeming  region,   which   to  the 
thoughtless  and  unmeditative,  might  be  absolutely  gloomy.     Ikit 
it  was  not  the  less  lovely  as  a   place  suited  equally  for  the   pic 
turesque  and  the  thoughtful ;   and,  just  now,  it  was  very  far  from 
gloomy  or  solitary.      The  event  which  was  in  hand  was  decreed 
to  enliven  it   in  especial  degree,  and  in  its  consequences,  to  im- 
characteristics  on  the  memory  for  long  generations  alter. 
Jt  was  the  day  of  St.  Mary's  Kve  — a  day  set  aside  from  imme- 

•r  a  great  and  peculiar  festival.      All,  accordii 

iii'e  and  joy  in  the  sea  republic.      The  mama-  ,dlv 

company  of  the  high-born,  the  youn-  and  the  beautiful,  wen-  t,, 

celebrated   on   this  occasion,  and   in   public,  according   to  the 

.       Headed    by   the    d,>gr   himself,   Pietro    Candiano,   the 

ii  its  thousands.      The  ornamented  gondolas   plied 

y  from    an  derly  hour  in  the    morning,  from  (!„>  city  t..  (  )li- 

mi-lst  music  and  merry  -ratulations  of  friends 

the    lovers    disembarked.      They  were    all    clad    in 

.      Silks,  which    caught    their  colors    from  the, 

that    had    inherited,  even    in   their  caverns, 

from  the  sun  and    stars,  met   the  eye  in    all  direc- 

!'<    had    p,,t    .,1,    all    its    riches,   and    beauty,  always 

modest,  was  not  satisiied  with  her  intrinsic  Lovelinett,   '  All   that 

i    decorations   and  nuptial  orna- 
uicntb,  was,  uisplay( -d   to  the  eager  gaze  of  curiosity,  and,  for*  a 


Tin:  HI: 

•nt,  the  •  1. -uit c«l  to  the 

I 

F.\it   gorgeous  and  grai 

tin-    crowd,  t!  some    at    tin-   fe.-tival,  some   young 

thro' 

anything  lint  -.      While  mod  "f  tin'  betrothed 

thrilled  onlv  with  rapturous  anticipations  that  might  have  been 
limited  in  tli-  :ilsations-  that  made  the  bosom  heavr  raj»- 

idly  beneath    the  cl-ise    pre.-Mire  of  the  virgin   /one,  there    '. 

•  thers.  \\lio  felt  only  that  sail  sinking  of  the  heart  which  de 
clare^  nothing  but  its  hope].  ,'ion.      There   . 
victims  tfl                                    -ell  as  virgins  to  be  ma-' 

!"d   in  by  thousands   of  the    bravo   and    goodly  —  1 

ml  Haunting  banners,  and  speaking  symbols  —  by  music 

and  by  smiles —  then-  were  more  hearts  than  one  that  longed  to 

;.e    from   all,   to   ily    away    to    some    far   solitude,  where   the 

-urliaj'  ;.  .-nt  rould  vex  the  defrauded 

sonl  no   more.      A  -!..n    moved    onward   and    np 

through  th«-  _  .venues  of  the  cathedral  to  the  altar-place, 

whe;  the  venerable  patriarch  in  waiting  for  their  coming, 

in  order  to  i  egin  the    soli-inn  but  grateful  rites,  you  might  have 

marked,  in  the  erowding  groups,  the  face  of  one    meek   daJ 

\vliich    declared    a  heart  very  far   removed    from   hope  or  joyful 

••••tation.      I>  that    tearful    eye  —  is   that    pallid  cheek - 
lip.    now    so    tremulously    oumilsrd  —  are    these    proper    to    one 

a  bridal,  and   that  her  own  ?      Where  is  her  anticij 
'       It  is  not  in  that   despairing  vacancy  ..f  face  —  ii-t  in  that 
le,  faltering,  almost  fainting  f"ot>tep  —  not.  certainly,  in  any- 
tliii:.  bdiold  about  the  maiden,  unless  we  seek  it  i; 

rich  and  flaming  je\vi-N  \\ith  which  d 

\vn  ;   and   these  no  more  declare   for   her  emotions  than 
;oses  which  encircle  the  neck  of  the  white  lamb,  as  it    : 
to  the  altar  and    the  prie.-t.      Ti  the  two  is   not   unlike, 

and  so  also  is  their  character.      Francesca  Ziani  is  decreed   ' 
•is  one  of  t  ,-»-t   and  winning,  but    f- 

spirits,  which  know  how  to  submit  only.  no  p,i\\-e. 

knOWfl  that    she  i-  a  victim;  that    her 

In-art  has  been  wronged  e\en  to  the  «!eath,  by  the  duty  to  which 
.manded  •  t  it    i>  th 


I  !'"»  SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 

!uit  unwilling  instrument  for  doing  a  mortal  wrong  to  the  he.Ml 
of  another;  but  she  lacks  the  courage  to  refuse,  to  resist,  to  die 
rather  than  submit.  Her  nature  only  teaches  her  submission  ; 
and  this  is  the  language  of  the  wo-begone,  despairing  glance, 
but  one  which  she  bestows,  in  passing  up  the  aisle,  upon  (>iu« 
who  stands  beside  a  column,  close  t«>  her  progress,  in  \\hose 
countenance  she  perceives  a  fearful  struggle,  marking  equally 
iiis  indignation  and  his  grief. 

Giovanni  Gradenigo  was  one  of  the  noblest  cavaliers  of  Ven 
ice —  but  nobleness,  as  we  know,  is  not  always,  perhaps  m.t  ulie'.s, 
the  credential  in  behalf  of  him  who  seeks  a  maiden  from  her  pa 
rents.  He  certainly  was  not  the  choice  of  Francesca'fl  sire.  The 
poor  girl  was  doomed  to  the  embraces  of  one  LTrie  liarheri:: 
man  totally  destitute  of  all  nobility,  that  alone  excepted  which 
lie-longed  to  wealth.  This  shone  in  the  eyes  of  1'rancesea's 
parents, but  failed  utterly  to  attract  her  own.  She  saw,  through 
the  heart's  simple,  unsophisticated  medium,  the  person  of  Giovanni 
(iradenigo  only.  Her  sighs  were  given  to  him,  her  loathings  to 
the  other.  Though  meek  and  finally  submissive,  she  did  not 
yield  without  a  remonstrance,  without  mingled  tears  and  out  real  - 
ies,  which  were  found  unavailing.  The  ally  of  a  young  damsel 
is  naturally  her  mother,  and  when  she  fails  her,  her  best  human 
hope  is  lost.  Alas  !  for  the  poor  Francesca  !  It  was  her  moth 
er's  weakness,  blinded  by  the  wealth  of  Ulric  Barberigo,  that 
rendered  the  father's  will  so  stubborn.  It  was  the  erring  mother 
that  wilfully  beheld  her  daughter  led  to  the  sacrifice,  giving  no 
heed  to  the  heart  which  was  breaking,  even  beneath  its  heavy 
weight  of  jewels.  How  completely  that  mournful  and  despond 
ing,  that  entreating  and  appealing  glance  to  her  indignant  1< 
told  her  wretched  history.  There  he  stood,  stern  as  well  as  sad, 
leaning,  as  if  for  support,  upon  the  arm  of  his  kinsman,  Nicolo 
Malapieri.  Hopeless,  helpless,  and  in  utter  despair,  he  thus  lin- 
i,  as  if  under  a  strange  and  fearful  fascination,  watching 
the  progress  of  the  proceedings  which  were  striking  fatally, 
with  every  movement,  upon  the  sources  of  his  own  hope  and 
happiness.  His  resolution  rose  with  his  desperation,  and  he  sud 
denly  shook  himself  free  from  his  friend. 

"  1  will  not  bear  this,  Nicolo,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  must  not  suf 
frr  it  without  another  effort,  though  it  !'<•  the  la>t." 


in  m  I.OVKH.  Ml 

•:M   you   do,    fliovanni,"   demandoo.    Ms   kinsman. 
1  ;m  hy  the  wrist  ;n   lie  spoke,  ami  arresting  his  move 
ment. 

her  tlms  sacrificed — delivered  to  misery  ami  the 

liall  mit  so  lord  it  over  true  iffectioi 
their  loss  and  mine.     F1  'nine —  is  mine  —  c^ 

in   tin-  verv  -iuht  of  Heaven.      II«.w  oft  on    hath    rhe    \ 

1. sillily  clerlr.re  it 

1 1.i ven  has  heard  our  vows,  tlie  church  snail  I'.oar 
Tin-  patriarch  shall  hear.      Hearts  must  m  I 

—  Ih-ivn    must    not    thus    he    defrauded.       That   selfish,    vain 
woman,    her   mother  —  that    mercenary    monster,    miscalled   ln«r 

DO   hotter   rights  than  mine  —  none  half   I 
11  hear  me.      Stand  hy  me,  Nio»l...  while  1  sj.eak  !" 

.  which,  howe\or  true,  was 
e.jually  unmeasured  and  impnident.      rrh«-  friend  of  the  unhappy 

'  .-Id  him  hack. 

••  I-  is  .11   in  v.-.in,  ('.iovanni  !      Think!   my  friend,  you  can  do 

,  lato  ;    nor  is  there  any  pOWOT   t«.  jirevent 

immation.      'I'heir  names  havo  heen  Imi^  sinco  written 

in  the    '  Book  of  Gold,'  and   the  do^o   himself  may  not  alter  the 

"TbeB  rlaimed  the  other.     "  Ay,  tho  '  Bride 

fold!1    hut  we   shall    soo  !"      And   ho  ajrain    starte<l   forward. 
';insmau  clun^  t«>  him. 

•    Bettet    that    we    leave    this   place.  (Tiovanni.      It  was    w< 
that  y.ni  slmuld  come.      I.,-t  us  go.      foo  will  only  commit  some 
folly  to  remain." 

it  is  t'.lly  to  he  wronu-rd,  and  to  suhmit  to  it,  1    kr. 
fr.Hv  to  :  ami  still  to  fool  !    folly,  suroly,  tn  discover,  and 

{,,  1.  r]-\.  that   tlie  ••-'.  n   that   mrtdr    lii»- 

1  to  you  f,,r  ever  !      What  n  ittei  if   I   should 

'          .    indeed,    if  thov     vh  ,   lau-h   at   the   fool, 
:    tho  wrath  that  they  |»r«>vi«'-.-." 
•  T  -r  madn.         •  :ini." 

Etelc  M  •  ••.  N  '  oh.." 

The  kinnun  nrged  in  vain.      The  dialopio.  which  was  ( 

^  !I.M%    ••Ml'oMM'il    l,y  animated    acti..n,  began    to 
if.iact    atioiitinn.      The    pi.<'c-ion    «TM    moving   forward.      Thr 


142  SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 

(loop  anthem  began  to  swell,  and  Giovanni,  wrought  to  the  high 
est  pitch  of  frenzy  l.y  the  progress  of  events,  and  l.y  the  opposi 
tion  of  Nicolo,  now  broke   away  from  all    restraint,  and    hurried 
through   the  crowd.     The  circle,  dense,  and  deep,  had  already 
gathered  closely  about  the   altar-place,  to  behold  the  ceremony. 
ite  yon.'li   made  his   way  through   it.     The  crowd 
.  and   under  the  decisive    pres>ure  of 

his  person.     They  knew  his  mournful  history  — for  when  does 
ry  of  love's  denial  and  defeat  fail  to  find  its  way  to  the 
world's  curious  hearing  ?     Giovanni  was  beloved  in  Venice.    Such 
•is   hifl    and    FranceM-a's  was   sure  to  beget   sympathy, 
particularly  with  all  those  who  could  find  no  rich  lovers Vor  them- 
daughters,  such   as  Ulric  Barberigo.     The  fate  of  tho 
youthful  lovers  drew  all  eyes  upon  the  two.     A  tearful  interest 
in  the  event  began  to  pervade,  the  assembly,  and  Giovanni  really 
found   j-,0   such   difficulty  as  would   have  attended   the  efforts  of 
ai.y  other  person   to  approach   the  sacred  centre  of  the  bridal 
circle.      He  made  his  \vay  directly  for  the  spot  where  Francesca 
stood.     She  felt  his  approach  and  presence  by  the  mo>t  natural 
instincts,  though  without  ever  daring  to  lift  her  eye  to  his  person. 
A  more,  deadly  paleness    than    ever   came  over  her,  and   as   she 
heard  the  first    sounds  of  his  voice,  she  faltered  and  grasped  a 
column   for  support.     Tho  patriarch,  startled   by  the  sounds  of 
confusion,  rose  from    the  sacred   cushions;  and  spread  his  hands 
:iihly  for  silence;    but  as  yet   he  failed  to  conceive 
the  occasion  for  commotion.      Meanwhile,  the  parents  and   rela 
tives  of  Francesca  had  gathered  around  her  person,  as  if  to  guard 
her  from  an  enemy.      1'lric  Barberigo,  the  millionaire,  put  on  tho 
a  man  whose  word  was  law  on  'change.     He,  too,  had 
his  retainers,  all  looking  daggers,  at  the  intruder.     Fortunately 
lor  Giovanni,  they  were  permitted   to  wear  HOIK;  at  these  peace 
ful  ceremonials.      J'l,  .jr   looks  of  wrath  did   not  discourage  the 
approach  of  our  I-.-..    .      He  did   not  seem,  indeed,  to  see   them, 
but  gently  putting    them  by,  he  drew  near  to  the  scarcely  con 
scious  maiden,      lie  lilted  the  almost  lifeless  hand  from  her  side, 
and   pressing   it   within    both    his   own,  a   proceeding  which   her 
mother  vainly  endeavored  to  prevent,  be   addressed  the   maiden 
with  all  that  impressn  eness  oftOIM  whicL  8    stifled  bu« 


still    pr 

i  ;hee 
for  tin-   last    tin 

I>   it   thus    tl.  'il   <.f  tin 

ihou  :irt    here  calli' 

;   willing  vanni,    a-   I   live!     I  have 

that     1     1, 

1  i:.)vanni. 

mournfully  WM«  tli  !.     There 

lleooe   thn>U'_rhoiit     tin-    a— einbly  :  which   i; 

a   similar   restraint    ».  the  maiden,  who  had 

i  ied    1.) 

li  :    but    t;  .'.Ic   man 

crivc    that   thi<    ^a-    tin-    la-t    nj..-n    ,  \vhidi 

inu-t    i  •  in.   and  it'  not  tin'-,   inn-' 

•tiff.      Hi-  tin-    inii-r- 

•1    it.     Ii    waa   with    inm  a-cd    faltrrinir. 

which    to    tin-     i  DOed     alniMxt     faintin.ir.    that    tin-     MM- 

•    her    l.»\ 

little  in» n-  than   \vhi-:  tlmu^h    deep,    W« 

low  Mini   Miltdin-.l.    u  D  \\iiilc   the  tcrth    wen-  shut.     '1'licn- 

was    that     in    th<  •.'.  hich     hrouirht     forward     tin-    crowd     in 

bn-athlrv.;  aiixi.  '  r,    and    the    proud    heart    of  the   •'. 

mother   revolted   at    aii   exliihition    in   which  her  p.-itioii   \\a>  l»y  no 

9be     would     have    \vre-sted,    ev.n 

leiiee.  the    hand    of    her   da  I  ::i  ;    hilt 

.ined   it   firmly,   the  maiden    h 
did  M..      Hi  .  d   upon   the  n. 

.     Hi-  words  f«.llM\\rd  hi-  1. 

"  Hi.-      .    ;i  li     triumphed,    lady,     in     tin: 

cruel    purpose,   to   tin- 
child'- 

what     had  that    you    should    trample    Q]  Thi- 

triumi>li  .1     would-t    thoti 

'  '•  •  .urnful   ]»ri\'ile  MI;  her 

,i-ting    with    him    t«   whom   A 


U-l  !  IMYAKD    HO  ! 

herself  to  another !  For  shame,  lady:  this  is  a  twofold  and 
needless  tyranny  :  " 

As  lie  8lX)ke,  the  more  gentle  and  sympathi/ing  spirits  around 
looked  upon  the  stern  mother  with  faees  of  the  kecUCSl  rebuke 
and  indignation.  Giovanni  once  more  addressed  himself  to  the 
maiden. 

"Ami  if  you  do  not  love  this  man.  my  Franeesca,  why  is  it 
that  you  M>  weakly  yi.-l.l  to  hi-  soliciting^  Why  submit  to  this 
sacrifice  at  any  instance?  Have  they  strength  to  subdue  thee? 

—  ha-    he    the   art    t"  en-nare  thee?  — canst     thou    not    declare    thy 
affections     with     ;i     willy     What     made    is    it    that    they    employ 
which    is    thus    superior  to  that  of  lovef— and    what    is   thy  right 

—  if  heedless  of  the  affections  of    /////   heart    -to  demand    the   sac 
rifice    of    mine?    Thou  hadst    it  in    thy    keeping,    France**,  as   I 
fondly   fancied   I  had  thine!  " 

"Thou  hadst— thou  hadst  !— " 

"Francesca,  my  child!"  was  the  expostulating  exclamation  of 
the  mother;  but  it  failed,  except  for  a  simile  instant,  to  arrest 
the  passionate  answer  of  the  maiden. 

••  Hear  me.  and  pity.  Giovanni,  if  you  may  not  forgive: 
Hlame  me  for  my  infirmity  — for  the  wretched  weakness  which 
has  brought  me  to  this  defe.-it  of  thy  heart — tliN  de-olation  of 
mine  — but  do  not  doubt  that  1  have  loved  thee  —  that  I  shall 
ever — ' 

"Stay:"   commanded  the  imperious  father. 

"What  is  it  thou  wouldM  say.  Franc,  ^;t.  I'.eware!"  was  the 
stern  laminate  of  the  mother. 

Tin-  poor  girl  shrunk  back  in  trembling.  The  brief  impulse 
of  courage  which  the  address  of  her  lover,  and  the  evident  sym 
pathy  of  the  crowd,  had  imparted,  was  gone  as  suddenly  as  it 
came.  She  had  no  more  strength  for  the  Struggle;  and  as  she 
sunk  back  nerveless  and  closed  her  eyes  :,<  if  fainting  under  the 
terrible  glance  of  both  her  parents,  Giovanni  dropped  her  hand 
from  his  -ra-p.  It  now  lay  lib  less  at  her  side,  and  she  was 
sustained  from  falling  by  some  of  her  sympathi/ing  companions. 
The  eyes  ,,f  t|,,.  youth  were  bent  upon  her  with  a  la-t  look. 

"It  is  all  over,  then,"  he  exclaimed.  "Thy  hope,  unhappy 
maiden,  like  mine,  mu-t  perish  because  of  thy  \Neakne-- .  Vet 
Iliere  will  be  bitter  memories  for  this"  he  exclaimed  --  and  his 


v  i-i:. 

MIT—  "  hitter,  bitter  iin-ini.rir-«  '  Franceses, 
fan-well  !  "     Be  happy  if  tlmu  can-t  '  " 

ru-hed    toward   him   a-   IK-    moved  ill   her 

MTtli    for    thi-    ••in-    ell'oit.       A    Mimic   and    broken  -enten< 

her     lipv     ;,„     ^he     B||] 

upon    the   ll.»..r.      He  \\«\i\<\    have    rai-eil   her.   Inn    :he\    did   not 
Duller  him. 

I-  ihi-  '  hi-   friend,  reproachfully. 

-t  thou  n.,i  thai  ili\  ',ut  di-tr;uN  li. 

••  Thou  art  rL;  I  .-tin  my-elf  eliokini:  —  undo 

nc  this  collar  ' —  Then   '     I.«  l  u- depart." 

The  «.ri:an  rolh-d  its  anthem  —  a  thousand  voieex  joined  in 
fhr  hymn  to  the  Viririn.  and  a-  the  <\vrri  hut  painful  sounds 
ru-he.l  to  the  ihe  youth,  he  darted  tlirnu.irh  the  cn»\v«l. 

ly     foll<.\\i'd    liy    his    friend.       The    niu-ie    -eenied     to    pi.- 
him    \\itli  Hi-     rushed     h(adlonLr    from    the    tempi* 

ipe    from    some    -uiToi-aiini:    atmosphere    in  the    pure 

nd   hurried   forward  with  confuted  and  purj 
The  moment    of   his  «listp|»«'aran<-c  wa-   marked    l.y 
tin-  partial   iv.overy  of  Fraiie.-, •;,.      She  uixl.-,  d  her  ejCB,  rai-nl  her 
hi-ail.  and  looked  \\ildly  ar«»und  h<  r.      Her  lips  once  im>re  murmured 
hi^  name. 

"  Giovanni1  " 

••  He  i-  gone,"  wa>-  the  -ympathi/iiiL;  an<\\er  fn.m  more  than  one 
lip  in  the  a—einlily  :  and  once  m<-re  >he  relapsed  into  uncon- 
scioli- 


<  HAITM:   n. 


•  •ly  uioiT  roiiM-iou-.  than  the  maiden 

\vliom  he  left.      He  neeiled  all  the  Lruidaiice  of  hi-  friend. 
"  \Yhilh' 
•  'What  mailer  '      \Vln-iv  limn  \\  ill  !"  v  :•!>-. 

nd   (oiidueti-d   him  to  the  goo- 
doU  which  Was  appointed  to  await  him,     In  t:  ii.  nee 

dwell- 
i.irn    of    Nin.ln.   ami    lie.   lakirii:    the    arm   "1    ihe  Milieu    and 

.iii  within   hisoun.  a-i  •<  nded   the    marbl'    ill  [.-.  and  WM   aU.ut 


1-1''  IllWAU!)    Ho! 

uter,  when  a  shrill  voice  challen-ed   their  attention  by 
,nni. 

"  How  now,  signo!-,"  said  the  stranger.     "I-  it   thou  •/    Where 
fore  has  thou  left  Olivoh,  •/     Why  did-t  thou  not  wait  the  bridal 

:k-lookimz;  \voinan,  in  coarse  \\oollen 

ments.     she  hobbled  as  -In-  walked,  assisted  by  a  hea\  \  -t.-itr,  and 
fCT  equally   from    lameness  and  from  age.      Her   thin 
depre-ed  lip-,  that  ever  shrunk  as  she  -poke  into   the  cavity  of    her 
mouth,  Which,  in  the  process  Of  time,  had    been   denuded  of   neat-h 
ull   its  teeth  ;  her  yellow,  wrinkled  vi-a.-e.  and   thin   .-ray  hairs  that 

ped  from  the  close  black  cap  \\liidi  covered  her  head,  declared 

tl»-  1  .'   age.      Hut    her  eye  shone  still  with  some 

thing  even  more  lively  and  oppressive  than  a  youthful  lire.  It  had  a 
•piritual  intensity.  Xolhini:,  indeed,  could  have  been  more 
brilliant,  or,  seemingly ,  more  unnatural.  Hut  her-  was  a  nature  of 
which  we  may  not  judire  by  common  law-.  She  was  no  common 
woman,  and  her  whole  life  was  chaiacteri/.ed  by  my-terv.  She 
known  in  Venice  as  the  "Spanish  Gipsy;"  was  supposed  t.»  be 

•  lly  a  .lewex,   and   had   only  escaped   from  beino;  punishcii  iis  a 
sorceros   by  her   profound   and   HUM    exemplary  devotion.      Hut   she 

known,  neverthrh -x.  ;(.  ;m  enchant  re—,  a  ma.-ician.  a  propht  : 
and  her  palmistry,  her  ma-ic.  her  symbols,  rigna  and  tali-mans,  u.'iv 
all  held  in  irreat  repute  by  the  supcrsiiiiojis  and   the  youthful   of  the 

••iovanni  (iradeni^o  himself,  obeying  the  popular  • 
torn,  had  consulted  her:  and   BOW,  M  he   h.-ird   hervoice,  he  rai-cd 
lii-  eyes,  and  started  forward  with  the  irnpul-e  of  one  who  suddenlv 
dart-    from    under    the   .irridini:  knife  of  the  a-<a-in.      Hefore  Xi.-^lo 
could    interfere,  he    had    leaped    down    the    steps,  and  darted  to  the 
quay  from  which   the  old  woman  was  about    to  step  into  a  nondola. 
iwaited    his  cominir  with  a   smilr   of  peculiar   meaning.  KB   -he 
d  her  inquiry  :  — 

••  Why  are  n«.i  you  ai  olivoi,.  ? " 

II     aiiswen-d   her   question   with   another.  ,Lrrasi)iiii.r  her  wrist    \\» 
lenll;.  ike, 

"Did  you  not    promi-e   that   she   should  wed  with    rue  — that   she 
should  be  mine  — mine  on; 

Well,"   she    an-wered    calmly,    without    struggling  or  seeking 
to  extricate  her  arm  from  the  strong  hold   which  lie  had   upon  it. 


••\Vrll     .-UK!  i  v.  n  n.»\\    tin-  rites  an    In    .  which   hind   her 

to    I'l: 

••  sin-  \\iil  never  wed   I'lri-    •  •  Muirl  -•' 

\\  ii\    l.  :;  you  '  '  :iiiniu-«l. 

.1.1    1    remain   and   lock    ui>on   i lu-.se   hated   nuptial.-: —could 
I    be    patiint    ami   Me    her   driven    li^  p   t"    tin-   UCriA 

H,.,l   from  ii.  life  Ol  tin-  buteher  were  already 

in  my  o\vn   heart." 

i    \\eiv    wronir;     but    the    fate-    have    -poken.    and    their    de- 
m    Unchangeable.       I     l«-Il     you     I    have    seen     your    bridal 
with    1  /.I.-. :ii.      No    t'lric    wed-    that    maiden.      She    i-    re 

served  done.       You   alone    will   interchange    with    her   the 

linal  WIW8  before  tin-  man  of   <;..d.      IJut    haMen.  that  this  may  find 
early     eon-unnnatinn.       I    have    seen    other    thiu.i:-!       lla-teii  —  but 
not    alone,    nor  without   your  armor!      A    Midden  and  terri- 
San    I  Metro  di    Castrlla.    and    all    within    its 

walks.    (Jath.r  gather  y  our  .retainers.      Tut  <»n  the 

\\ar  ami   lly   thither   with  all  your  -peed.      I    BOC  a  t«-r 
rible    vi-inn.    e.eii    now.    of    blood    and    simple!     I    behold 
that    frighten    e\(ii    me!       Your    i'rieml    i-    a    man    of    arms.       Let 
\cuir    \\  put    forth,    and    bid    them    steer    for    i: 

•  rlo.     There   will    you    win    Franeesc  a,    and   the;. 

shall    \  -    it    may    be    allowed 

you  to  wear  any   human 

il>!    voice,    look,    manner.    >udden   energy,   and   the    wild    : 

anni    to    his    fullest     OOOadomOfiMi       UN 
friend    drew    niurh       th«\     would    ha  tier,    but   the 

id    them. 

i    would    «leli!  but    you     have    no    time  ! 

What    i-    to    be    done    muM    be    done    quit  kl\         I1    -tins    wild    to 
you.    ;md    ||  .'1    idle,    \\hat    I    tell    \ou.    but    it    i-   mverthe 

.   heed     Hie     IH't     How     bitter     will     be      \olir    re- 

jH-ntaiHt-    h<  .  '        .anni.    will    d(  part    at    1<  ..  ll«<d 

.  cold   t.i  :•;!       II.      .  ii; 

1  do    well,    but    In-   will  do    neihin-    further.      A 
you  <  an    but  pit  her   a    il««/.eii    I: 
will    be    in    Kaaoa      Hut   the   time  is  ^hort.       :  •  t ul   ery 

-        tile 

I  see 


SOUTHWARD    II  o  ! 


their  struggling  forms,  and  floating  garments,  and  dishevelled 
hair!  Fly,  young  men.  lot  tin-  names  (,f  those  whom  Venice 
baa  wriiten  in  her  Book  of  (;«,],!  slnll  heneeforlh  he  written  in  a 

r>ook  of 


reputation   of    the    syliil    was   too    great    in    Venice    to  allow 
lier    wild    i.redietioiis    to    he   laughed    ai.       Besides,   .MIT    VDiin-r    Ye 
netiaiis  —  Xicolo    no    less    than     (Jiovanni  —  in    spite    of     \\hat     the 
woman     had     spoken     touching     his     l;irk     of     entliusiasin  —  were 
both     aroused    and     eagerly    excited     hy    her    >peech.        I!,;-     person 
dilated    a-    she    Bpokfi;    her    voice  seemed  to    come    up    from   a   fear 
ful    depth,    and    went    thrillingly   deep    into    ihe   souls   of  the   h,...,,-. 
BT8.      They     were     carried     from     iheir     feet     l,y     h<  r     predict  iojis. 
They    i.rei)ared    to    ol.ey    h«-r    OOUDSeb.       BoOD    had    they     ,-aii, 
tlieir    friends  to^-jln-r.   <-nou.uh    to   man    tin 
of   the    city.     Their  prows   were  turned  at  once   toward  th 
of   Caorlo,    whither    the   woman    had    directed    them.       She.    mean 
while,    had    disappeared,    hut    the    course    of    her   gondola    lav    for 
Olivolo. 


CHAPTER    III. 

IT  will  be  necessary  that   we  should   go    back    in    our  narrative 

bill      a    single     Week     h.-foiv     the    occurrence    ,,f    lhe<e    event-,.         Let 
us   penetrate  the    dim    and    lonesome    abode    on    the  confines    of  the 
"Jewish   (Quarter."  bui    not    \\iihin   it,  where   the    "SiianMi   G 
delivered    her   pivdictii.ns.      It    ix    nii.lniglit.    and    still   she   siis  OV€J 
her    incantations.     '1'here    are     \.  unc.nith     shape   and     un 

known  character  before  her.  Hugi-  bra/iers  lir  convrnicnt,  on 
one  of  which,  amid  a  few  coals,  a  feeble  ilame  may  be  B660  to 
stni--le.  The  atmosphere  ix  impivgnate<l  with  a  StTOB 
not  ungrateful  perfume,  and  throu-lj-  ii<  v.ij.ors  ol.jecis  appear 
with  some  indistinctne-.  A  circulai  plate  of  bnua  "r  copper  - 
it  could  not  well  be  any  more  preciou-  metal  rests  beneath 
the  eye  and  linger  of  the  woman.  Ii  is  covered  \\ith  Strange 
and  mystic  eharaelers.  which  she  Beenu  busily  to  explon  . 
'!"'.v  I'ad  a  real  signilican*-..  to  her  mind.  She  evidenilv  united 
the  hi.i:hi-t  dcpa'-lments  of  her  art  with  its  humblest  ollice>;  and 
ed  those  n.»blei'  a-pir:,li..nx  ,,f  the  wol,  which,  during  tiie 
middle  ages,  elevated  in  considerable  degive  Ilie  p: 

necromancy.      Uut    our    purp..-.-    is   no!    no\\     to   deiermine  lu-r  pre 


TIM:    M  >  -i  I:I;H>(  8    \  [8ITOB.  II'1 

teii>i.'iiv  \\Y  \\-.i\-c  but  t«»  exhibit  ami  t<>  a-certain  a  .-mall  specimen 
•  •I'  In  r  skill  in  the  vulgar  business  of  fortune  telling  —  an  art 
which  will  continue  to  1  ain.-ni:  mm.  t« 

<>r  lea  extent,  BO  Ion-  a-  tln-y  -hall   i<  hope  which  they 

can    not    explain.       Our    i:yp-\  :    \i-itor.       Sin1    hear-    his 

Hie  do..r  her   bidding,   and   a   -tranter   makes 

his  appearance.      ll<     i     B   tall  well  made   man.  of  stern  and  gloomy 

countenance,    which    is    half    concealed    heneath    the    rai-ed     fold- 

f     hi>   cloak.       His    heard,    of    enormOUfl    lenirth.    i-    B66D    to 

>tream    do\\  n    up'-n    hi-    lm-a>!  ;    Imt    hi-    check     i-    yniithful.    and 

-irerly  and  anxiously  1»ri.irht.     But   for  a  certain  repelling 

something  in  hi-  irlance.  he  mi-'ht    lie  considered  a  very   hand.-oine 

man  —  perhaps    l>y    many   persons    he    wa<   thouirlit    so.       !!<•    ad- 

:    with    an    air  of    dignity  and    power.       Hi-    deportment   and 

manner       ami.    when    he    -poke,    hi-    v.ice  —  all    >eemc«l    to   denote 

Band        The    woman    did     not    look 

he    approached;    on    the    contrary,    she  -eemed    more    intent 
than    ever    in    the    examination    of    the    Mran-e    character-    before 
tator    mi-ht    have    seen   that    a    corner  of 
bright  with  an   inlelli-cnce  that    looked   more   like   cunnin.u 
than  wi-doin.  wa-  -ulVered  I"  lake  in  all  of  the  fare  and  p<'r-oii  of  the 
i]   that  hi-  mutlliii-  OOftUHie  jH-nnittcd  to  be  -ecu. 
d-ttlicr."  said  the  -traiiLT'-r.  "  I  am  \\< 
••  You  say  not  who  you  ai'e."  an-uereil  the  woman. 

:    -hall   -ay."  wa-  the  abrupt  reply  ol  the  -tran-er.      "  That. 
i.  wa-  unip  -ci-  ~-:irv  tO   \mirart— to  the   solution  of  the  (pies 
tion-  that    1  a-ked  you. " 

art.  that   promi-e-  t<>  tell   thee 

of    the    future,    would    be   a  sorry    fraud    could    it    not    declare  the 
.'iiM    it    not    -ay    who    thoti    art.    a-    \\ell    as    \\hat    thoii 

"Hal  and    thoii  kno\ve-t  '  "  «  xclaimed   the  other,   his   hand   -ud 
denly  feeling  within  the  foldfl  ««f  in-  cloak  a-  he  -poke,  a-  i: 
,.  \\hile  1,:  ri<  kly  around    the  apartment. 

.id   the   \v..man.   candy.      "  I   can-  n«»t   to 

kno\\    \\!H.  tin >u  art.      It  is  m>t  an  object   <.f  my   (juest.  otliei 
icmain  a  secret  fron. 


150  SOUTHWARD    HO  !  * 

•'  It  is  well !  mine  is  a  name  that  must  not  be  spoken  among 
the  homes  of  Venice.  It  would  make  thee  thyself  to  quail 
couldst  thou  hear  it  spoken." 

"  Perhaps !  but  mine  is  not  the  heart  to  quail  at  many  things, 
unless  it  be  the  absolute  wrath  of  Heaven.     What  the  violence 
or  the  hate  of  man  could  do  to  this  feeble  frame,  short  of  death, 
it  !KKS  already  suffered.     Thou  knowest  but  little  of  human  cru 
city,  young  man,  though  thy  own  deeds  be  cruel.'' 

<;  How  knowest  thou  that  my  deeds  an-  crm-l  ?"  was  the 
quick  and  passionate  demand,  while  the  form  of  the  stranger 
suddenly  and  threateningly  advanced.  The  woman  was  un 
moved. 

"  Saidst  thou  not  that  there  was  a  name  that  might  not  bo 
spoken  in  the  homes  of  Venice  ?  Why  should  thy  very  name 
make  the  hearts  of  Venice  to  quail  unless  for  thy  deeds  of  cru 
elty  and  crime  ?  But  I  see  further.  I  see  it  in  thine  eyes  that 
thou  art  cruel.  I  hear  it  in  thy  voice  that  thou  art  criminal.  I 
know,  even  now,  that  thy  soul  is  bent  on  deeds  of  violence  and 
blood ;  and  the  very  quest  that  brings  thee  to  me  ngw  is  less 
the  quest  of  love  than  of  that  wild  and  selfish  passion  which  BO 
frequently  puts  on  its  habit." 

"  Ha  !  speak  to  me  of  that !     This  damsel,  Francesca  Ziani ! 

of  her  that  I  would  have  thee  speak.-    Thou  saidst  that 

she  should  be  mine ;  yet  lo  !  her  name  is  written  in  the  '  Book 

of  Gold,'  and  she  is  allotted  to  this  man  of  wealth,  this  Ulrio 

Barberigo." 

"  She  will  never  be  the  wife  of  Ulric  Barberigo." 

"  Thou  saidst  she  should  be  mine." 

"  Nay,  I  said  not  that." 

"  Ha!  — but  thou  liest !" 

••  Xo  !  Anger  me  not,  young  man!  I  am  slower,  much 
sl"\vt-r  to  anger  than  thyself — slower  than  most  of  those  who 
still  chafe  within  this  mortal  covering  —  yet  am  I  mortal  likr 
thyself,  and  not  wholly  free  from  such  foolish  passions  as  VCA 
mortality.  Chafe  me,  and  I  will  repulse  thee  with  scorn.  An 
noy  me,  ami  1  close  upon  thee  the  book  of  fate,  leaving  ther 
to  the  blind  paths  which  thy  passions  have  ever  moved  thee  to 
take." 

The  stranger  muttered  something  apologetically, 


Hi!  151 

"  Make  me  no  e>  "«tr  and   sub- 

1   said  not  tl  Ziani  should   lie  thine  f      I  said 

!l:at   I  beheld  her  in  thy  arms." 

•  what  more  do  I  I  -ting  speech  of  the 

':ig   into    a    sort    of  outburst,  which    fully 
the   ruffian,  and    the  entel   passions  by  which  he 

••  If   tl  .  oman,  coldly,  her 

the    brazen    plate  upon 
which  the  characte:  .scribed. 

-That,  then,  thou  promises!  still?"  demanded  the  stra: 

I'liMU  slialt  see  fur  thyself."  WU  the  reply.      Tims  spe;. 
the  woman  >1  !   brought  forth  a  small  chafing-dish, 

•>per,  m>t    much   larger  than  a  common   plate, 
placed  over  the  brazier,  the  flame  of  which  she  quick 
ened   bv  a  tV\\    -n.a.t   pull's  from  a  little  bellows  which  1. 

the   ilame    kindled,  and    the   sharp,  red    '  like 

of  the  plate,  she  poured  into  it  some 
thing  like  a  gill  of  a  thick,  tenacious  liquid,  that  looked  like,  and 
might  ha\e  U -m.  hoiu-y.  Above  this  she  broodeil  for  a  while 
with  her  eves  iimnedi  and  the  k 

,['  tl.  \v,  could  detect  the 

•li-rlips;    tl''Mi<-;h    th«-    :  .  i!,t!  !r>  which  she 

••mplnved  irere  »-niirely  lu-yond    bis  comprehension.      Suddenly, 
a  thick  vap-.r  "ent  up  from  the  dish.      She  withdrew  it  from  the 
ud    laid    it    before    her   on    the    ta    lr.      A    fen    moments 
of  the  vessel,  the  vapor  arising  and 
iidly  above  her  head. 

M  thy>el;  >mmand    to   the 

lance  upon  the 

•inis  to  be  iju/  :   what  it  M  ':idif- 

ihe  n-sult.      '1  ml    sumi; 

IN-  benl  instantly  o\  ei  .     '.th  undis- 

l.e  exclaimed.      u  She  dro«  ; 

that  -upports  her       upon  whose   breast  is  it  that   she   lies  —  who 
v  in  triumph  !" 

the  woman,  coldly. 

m  '  is   in   my  AHM 


152  SOUTHWARD    110. 

She  is  on  my  bosom  !  I  have  her  in  my  galley  !  She  speeds 
with  me  to  my  home  !  I  see  it  all,  even  as  thou  hast  promised 
me!" 

"  I  promise  thee  nothing.  I  but  show  thee  only  what  is 
written." 

"  And  when  and  how  shall  this  be  effected  ?" 

"How,  I  know  not,"  answered  the  woman;  "this  is  withheld 
fn»m  inc.  Fate  shows  what  her  work  is,  only  as  it  appears  when 
done,  but  not  the  manner  of  the  doing." 

"But  when  will  this  l>e  T'  was  the  question. 

"  It  must  be  ere  she  marries  with  Ulric  Barberigo,  for  him 
she  will  never  marry." 

"  And  it  is  appointed  that  he  weds  with  her  on  the  day  of  St. 
Mary's  Eve.  That  is  but  a  week  hence,  and  the  ceremony 
takes  place — " 

"  At  Olivolo." 

"  Ha  !  at  Olivolo  !"  and  a  bright  gleam  of  intelligence  passed 
over  the  features  of  the  stranger,  from  which  his  cloak  had  by 
this  time  entirely  fallen.  The  woman  beheld  the  look,  and  a 
slight  smile,  that  seemed  to  denote  scorn  rather  than  any  other 
emotion,  played  lor  a  moment  over  her  shrivelled  and  sunken  lips. 

"  .Mother,"  said  the  stranger,  "must  all  these  matters  be  left 
to  fate  ?" 

"  That  is  as  thou  wilt." 

"But  the  eye  of  a  young  woman  may  be  won — her  heart 
may  be  touched  —  so  that  it  shall  be  easy  for  fate  to  accomplish 
her  designs.  1  am  young;  am  indifferently  well-fashioned  in 
person,  and  have  but  little  reason  to  be  ashamed  of  the  faee 
which  (Jod  has  given  me.  Beside,  1  have  much  skill  in  music, 
and  can  sing  to  the  guitar  as  fairly  as  most  of  the  young  men 
of  Venire.  What  if  1  were  to  find  rny  way  to  the  damsel  — 
what  if  1  play  and  sing  beneath  her  father's  palace?  1  i 
disguises, and  am  wont  lo  practice  in  various  garments  :  1  can — " 

The  woman  interrupted  him. 

"Thou  mavst  do  as  thou  wilt.  It  is  doubtless  as  indifferent 
to  the  fates,  what  thou  doest,  as  it  \\ill  be  to  me.  Thou  hast 
Been  what  1  have  shown  —  J  can  no  more.  1  am  not  permitted 
to  counsel  thee.  I  am  but  a  voice ;  thou  hast  all  that  1  can 
give  thee." 


T 1 1  K 


Tin'  stranger  lingered    .still,  but    tin-  woman  tfl   speak, 

;md    hetrayed    l.y    her   mam.   r   that  she   desired    his   departure. 
'I'!,,-,  |  pm>e  from  his  hosoin  and   laid   it  In 

iirr.      She  ili.l  not  seem  to  notice  the    action,  nor   did    she    again 
UM    until    he  1  With  tlie  sound  of  his  retreating 

she  put  asiile  the  hra/.en  volume  of  strange  characters 
which  >eemed  her  favorite  studv,  and  her  lips  slowly  parted  in 
soliloquy  :  — 

:!ioii  exultest,  fierce    ruffian  that  thon   art,  in    the  I 

to  thy  will  !      Thou  shalt,  indeed, 

have  the  maiden  in   thy  arms,  hut   it  shall   profit   thee   nothing; 
that  single  triumph  shall  exact  from  thee  the  last   penalties 
!i    are  sure  to  follow  on  the  footsteps  of  a  trade  like  thine 
.  thinkot  that  I  know  thee   not,  as  if  thy  shallow  masking 
could    haftle    eyes  and   art  like  mine;    hut  1  had  not  >hown  thee 
much,  were  I  not  in  po»rssion  of  yet  further  knowledge- 
thai  this  lure  v.  :ia!  to  emlmlden  thee  to  thy 
.1   overthrow.      Alas,  that   in    serving   the  can.se  of  inno- 
the   ih'ioeent    from   harm,  we    ran   not  make  it 
safe  ii.  liappiiM-.s.s.      Poor  Francesca  !    heh-ved  of  three,  yet 

•her.      Thou   shalt    he  wedded,  yet    he    no  hride  ;    .shall 

all  that  thy  fond   young  heart  cravrth,  yet    gain  nothing  — 

,-ared    the    cmhracrs   of   him  th.-u    l,.athe>t.  yet    rot    in    his 

arm-  whom    thon   ha>t    most  need  to  fear;    and  shalt    he  denied, 

when   most   a-sured,  the    only  i-mhrace  \\  hich    might    hring 

1       Eappy    '-•    lea>t  that  thy  ^h.ill    not  last 

1,,,,^.-  —  their  vry  I  and  intensity  heing  thy  security 

wry  which  holds  through  yean  like  in 

the    woman    of    D  ttC€    more 

J-a'                                 Now  p..  !~tria, 

which,  at    the    peri«.d  of  our  nrirrati\  -  itn.l 

_:y  capri--'  •  fn-- 

jij.-n;   \;  At  thi-  particular  time,  the  place  wa-  main- 

t.-iiiii-d     l.y    ti .-  t     hand   of    pirates   that    ever    swept    the 

Mr-!  D  with  their  hloody  pr>wg. 


154  SOUTHWARD    110  ! 


CHAPTER     IV. 

IT  was  midnight  when  the  galley  of  the  chief  glided  into  the 
harbor  of  Istria.  Tl  e  challenge  of  the  sentinel  was  answered 

from  the  vessel,  and   she  took  her  place  l.eside  the  shore,  \\\ 
tw<>  other  galleys  were  at  anchor.     Suddenly  her  sails  descended 
with  a  rattle;  a  voice  hailed  throughout  the  ship,  was  answered 
from   stem    to   stern,  and   a  deep   silence    followed.     The   fierce 
chief    of  the    pirates,   Pietro    Harharo —  the    fiercest,  strong 

it  youngest,  of  seven  brothers,  all  devoted  to  the  same 
fearful    employment  —  strode    in    silence    to    his    cabin.      II 
throwing  himself  upon  a  couch,  he   prepared   rather  to   rest   his 
limbs  than   to   sleep.     lie   had    thoughts  to  keep   him  wakeful. 
Wild  hopes,  arid  tenderer  joys  than  his  usual  occupations  offered 
were  gleaming  before  his  fancy.     The  light  burned  dimly  in  hi.; 
floating  chamber,  but  the  shapes  of  his  imagination  rose  up  before 
his  mind's   eye  not   the  less  vividly  because  of  the  obscurity  in 
which  lie  lay.     Thus  musing  over  expectations  of  most  agrco- 
alde  ami  exciting  aspect,  he  finally  lapsed  away  in  sleep. 

He  was  suddenly  aroused  from  slumber  by  a  rude  hand  tl.at 
'ay  heavily  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Who  is  it  ?"  he  asked  of  the  intruder. 

"Ganiba."  was  the  answer. 

"Thou,  brother?" 

"Ay,"  continued  the  intruder,  "  and  here  are  all  of  us." 

•'  Indeed!  and  wherefore  come  you?  I  would  sleep  —  1  am 
•vearv.  1  mu^t  have  rest." 

«  Thou  ha>t  too  much  rest,  Pietro,"  said  another  of  the  broth- 
"  It   is    that    of   which    we    complain       that   of  which    w< 
would  speak  to  thee  now." 

••Ha!    ih:s    is    new   language,    brethren!      Answer    me  —  per- 
1  am  not  well  awake  —  am  I  your  captain,  or  not?" 

••Thou  art  — the  fact  seems  to  be  forgotten  by  no  one  but 
thyself.  Though  the  youngest  of  our  mother's  children,  we 
made  thee  our  b-adrr." 

;   what  did  ye  this,  my  brothers,  unless  that  I  lyight  com 

HiMlii 

:    tlii:-,   in    truth,   and    this  only,  did    we   confer   upon    thee 


i>t     >hown    thyself    worthy    to    com- 
: — " 

11'" 

"  Tliy  skill  —  tliy  ('.niraire —  thy  fortitude — " 
••  In  brief,  ve  t!,.".:_'lit  :  mmand  '^ 

•  Y. 

:  ye  hence  !      J.«ia\  •  1  lot  mo  rest !" 

:    tliis  can    not   be,"  was   the   reply    of  an- 
\Ve   mn>t    speak  with  tl-ee  whil 

i   art,  in  :  :    tliy  ([iialitifS 

'.net    and    emmse!   us;   but  we    elmse   tliec  not 

tba'  :i    that    mir   enter- 

;i\c  and  might  lead  t-»  fn'-jucnt  pr  >f:- 
••  Has  it  n. .t  '.em  so?"  demanded  the  chief. 

r  a  season  it  was  so,  and   there   was   no   complaint   uf 

"  W:  mplain.s  ?" 

by  peoph.  —  all!" 

i  ran  ye  m.t  an>wrr  t1  • 

need  an  answer!     We.  too,  complain." 
"  (  '  niplain  ye  ?" 

••That  .an-  enter}ji:,>es  profit  u>  n^tliin^." 

•    1  i.     3       ..    •     _      I'-.rth  in  the  -alleys  .'      Lead  ye  n«t,  each  of 
yon,  an    anue-l    galley  .'      Why  if   it    that  your  en:  profit 

;rk  oi'  mir  captain." 

ause  ye  are  in- 

liiust  have  iin  ! 

•mething  •>.      Our    . 

iih  nothii  you   command  that  we    no   longer  trouble 

ibe  .  ike,    Venice  baa  become  thy  fav«-rite.    Thou 

in-r  "idy,  when   it  .:eivliant>    "idy  who   should 

-p"il.      'I'hi>,  broth' 

•    complain  of  the.-.      '! 
lied  by  thy  new-burn  1"  and  the; 

: 

••  ll:i  :  ai,«!  y«  — ' 

•  We    a.e    iiu-n    as  well  as  breth:  M 


156  SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 

tachmcut   for  Venice   as   that  which  seems   to    fill   thy  bosom 
When  the  question  shall   be  taken  in  regard  to  tin- 
voices  shall  be  against  thee,  unless — " 

There  was  a  pause.     It  was  broken  by  the  chief. 

"  Well,  speak  out.      What  are  your  conditions?" 

"Unless   thou  shalt  consent  to  lead  us  on  a  great  cut; 
against  the  Venetians.     Hearken  to  us,  Brother  Pietio.     Tlnm 
knowest   of  the    annual   festival   at  Olivolo,  \vlicn  the   ma: 
takes  place  of  all  these  maidens  Avhose  families  arc  lav-rite*  of 
the  Signiory,  and  whose  names  are  written  in  the  '  Book  of  ( -. 
of  the  Republic." 

The  eyes  of  the  pirate  chief  involuntarily  closed  at  th- 
gestion,  but  his  head  nodded  aftirmatively.  The  speaker 
tinned. 

"  It  is  now  but  a  week  when  this  festival  takes  place.  ( )n 
this  occasion  assemble  the  great,  the  noble,  and  the  wealthy  of 
the  sea  city.  Thither  they  bring  all  that  is  gorgeous  in  their 
apparel,  all  that  is  precious  among  their  ornaments  and  decora- 
tions.  Nobility  and  wealth  here  strive  together  which  shall 
most  gloriously  display  itself.  Here,  too,  is  the  heanty  of  the 
city  —  the  virgins  of  Venice  —  the  very  choice,  among  her  Hocks 
Could  there  be  prize  more  fortunate  1  Could  there  be  prize 
more  easy  of  attainment  'I  The  church  of  San  I'ietro  di  Castella 
permits  no  armed  men  within  its  holy  sanctuaries.  There  are 
no  apprehensions  of  peril;  the,  people  who  gather  to  the  rites 
are  wholly  weaponless.  They  can  offer  no  defence  against  our 
a**anlt  ;  nor  can  this  be  foreseen.  What  place  more  lonely  than 
Olivolo/  Thither  shall  we  repair  the  day  before  the  festival, 
and  .-belter  ourselves  from  scrutiny.  At  the  moment  when  the 
en. w.l  is  greatest,  we  will  dart  upon  our  prey.  We  lack  women; 
we  desire  wealth.  Shall  we  fail  in  either,  when  we  have  in  re 
membrance  the  bold  deeds  of  our  ancient  fathers,  when  they 
looked  with  yearning  on  the  fresh  beauties  of  the  Sabine  vir 
gins  ?  These  Venetian  beauties  are  our  Sabines.  Thou,  too  —  if 
the  bruit  of  thy  followers  doth  thee  no  injustice  —  thou,  too,  hast 
been  overcome  by  one  of  tnese.  She  will  doubtless  i.e  p: 
at  this  festival.  .Make,  her  thine,  and  fear  not  that  each  of  thy 
brethren  will  do  justice  to  hi*  tastes  and  thine  own.  Here,  now 
them  hast  all.  Either  thou  agrcest  to  that  which  thy  people  de- 


rip:  IMII ATI-:  ITIM  L'T 

1.  or  the  po\\,  ;  U   :.       V 

At  length  the  pirate-chief  addroMod  hi* 

..Ml. 

••}'•    '    .          ken    ye  threaten,  too !     Thi<  power  of  wliieli 

I  value  it  not  a  / 
6  me  to-morrow,  I    should    IIP   tlio   ir, 

month,  did  it  please  me  to  commaiid  a  people 

'  HIS,      Pint  tliink  not,  though   I  speak  to  ye  in  tliis  fa-li- 

i;r  demand.     I  liut  speak  tlius  to  sliow  ye  tli.lt 

I   t      i  ye  not      I    will    do    I  rire;   but  did   not  your  ow» 

•  •iily  with  iiiino  own.  I  should  hide  the  issue  of 

ilnMi^li  it  wore  with  knife  to  knife." 

;iatter>  not  how  thon  fi-idest,  or  what  moveth  thoe,  Piotro, 
iiat    tliou   dost   as   \ve   demand.      Thou   wilt    lead    us   to  this 
8J    »il 

'    1    will." 

iou.r]i.      It    will    prove   to   thy   people   that  they  aie 
;ers   of  the    Lagune  —  that    they   arc   not  sold  to 

:e  now." 

The   hieth:en    took   their   departure.     When  they  had  gone, 
;!;•>  i-hief  spnke  in  brief  soliloquy,  thus  :  — 

"  Verily,  tin  re  [a  I  he  hand  of  t'ate  in  this.     Rethinks  I  see  the 

HCC  more,  OVep  a>  I   1  elield  it  in  the  nia^ic  liquor  of  t\ie 

Why    thought    I    not    of  this  U-fore.  dreaming 

i<li«'t  li«.y,  a-  much  in  love  witii  his  music  as  him 

y    the    tinkle    of   his    guitar   to  win  his  heautv 

!ier  n«»hle  >ire,  to    the    ol.M-mv    retreats  of  his 

»la  !      Thoe  l.iethr-.-n  shall  not  vex  me.     They  are  but  the 

creai 

( "I!  A  FTP.  U    V. 

-•turn  to  Olivolo,  to  the  altar-place  of  the  church 

9  in    Pietp.    di    ("astella,    and    resume    the    progress    of    that 

,_;ely -niingh'.l  ceiemonial  —  mixed    sunshine    and    sadness  — 

uhich  wa.s  limken  by  the    ]  uni  Gra 

\Ve  left  th  %    p<><>r.  crushed  l-'rancesca,  in  a  >tate  of  uu 


158  SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 

,  iii  the  arms  of  her  sympathizing  kindieu.  For  a 
brief  space  the  impression  was  a  painful  one  upon  the  hearts  oi 
tlu»  '  :.ihly  ;  but  as  tlie  dee},  organ  rolled  its  ascending 

nutlieins,  the  emotion  subsided.     The  people  had   as>eml>led  fo, 
pleasure  and  an  agreeable  spectacle  ;   and  though  sympathizing, 
fora  moment,  with  the  pathetic  fortunes  of  the  sundered  lo\ 
«|iiite  as  earnc'stly  as  it  is  possible  £::•  mere  lookers-on  to  do,  tin'} 

•  n«it.  to  he  disappointed  in  the  objects  for  which  they  came 
The  various  shows  of  the   a-semblage —  the  drears,  the  jewels, 
the.   dignitaries,  and   the   beauties  —  were  quite  enough  to  divert 
the  feelings  of  a  populace,  at  all  times  notorious  for  its  lev! 
from  a  scene  which,  however  impressive  at  first,  was   becoming 
a  little  tedious.     Sympathies  are  very  good  and  proper  thi. 
but  the  world  seldom   suffers  them  to  occupy  too  much  of  it- 
time.     Our  Venetians  did  not  pretend  to  be  any  more  humane 
than  the  rest  of  the  great  family;  and  the  moment  that  Fran 

i  had  fainted,  and  Giovanni  had  disappeared,  the  multitiub 
began  to  express  their  impatience  of  any  further  delay  by  all  the 
means  in  their  possession.  There  was  no  longer  a  motive  to  re 

:iieir  desires,  and  simply  reserving  the  late  of  :he  poor  Fran 

a  to  the  last,  or  until  she  should  sufficiently  recover  to  be 
fully  conscious  of  the  sacrifice  which  she  was  about  to  make,  the 

nonies  were  begun.     There  was  a  political  p-irt  to  be  played 

.  in  which  the  people  took  particular  interest;  an 
to  behold  which,  indeed,  was  the  strongest  reason  r,f  their  impa 
tience.  The  government  of  Venice,  marked  by  quaint 

and  witty  James  Ilowell,  was  a  compound   thing,  mixed  of  all 
kinds   of  governments,  and   might  be  said  to  be  composed  of  "  a 

v  i  if  monarchy,  a  do.sc  of  democracy,  and  a  Jrcim,  if  not  an 
iiit/n-f  of  optimaey."  It  was  in  regard  to  this  dose  of  democracy 
that  the  government  annually  assigned  marriage  portions  tc 
twelve  young  maidens,  selected  from  the  great  body  of  the  ; 
pie,  of  those  not  siiiliciently  opulent  to  secure  husbands,  or  find 
the  adequate  means  for  marriage,  without  this  help.  To  bestow 
the-'e  maidens  upon  their  lovers,  and  with  them  the  portions 
allotted  by  the  state,  constituted  the  first,  and  in  the  eyes  of  tho 
DMUMeS)  the  most  agreeable  part  of  the  spectacle.  The  r 
on  this  occasion,  who  was  the  thrice-renowned  Pietro  Candiano, 
"  did  his  spiriting  gently,"  and  in  a  highly  edifying  manner 


1   :< 

iirs,  and   confirmo-l    hv    I 
:  tlu-  chosen  couples.      To  ' ' 

.(•  upoi.  -i 
• 

a  right  to  make.    The  high-horn  and  tlio  wealthy, 
.iched   tlio   altar,  to  rerei\o    'I  «• 
taitfed    them    to    hopes   c,f  hapj 
1  t«i  compel. 

•at    deal   nf   h.>pe    am-s^g    tin-  parti-  s,  and 
inly  no   reason   to    MipjiDso   that  hajtpinos^  did  ii"t 

.:.      It  is  now  her  turn.      Her 

u-niain  nnsrj'dnod  and  unsoftcnod  l»y  her  drop  and 
to  totter  forward  to  the 
.  perhaps,  that   the 
Worthless,  but    wealthy,    t'l 

jiertators  all    thoir 

The]  '  the  cruoltv  of  tha' 

rihoe  to  which  her  kindred  are  insensihlo.  In  vain  do  they 
niunp.jr  "  sh.m.c  '"  In. vain  does  she  turn  her  vacant,  wild,  but 
siill  o.\] 

.:u-y,  to  that  stern,  and  '  -..m  DO  ]. 

M   child  with  the  true  maternal  fooling.      Hop, 
:Vo;n  that    (jnarter,  slie   lifts  her  «  ..  no 

BI    listen:  ;<lg  of  the   holy  man.  she    lUTTei 

If  only  to  despair. 

.'      Is  it  the  ]•, 

•hat  hurvts  the  doois  of  the  church  at  the 
:,ient  when    slie    is    called    upon    to    yield    th.it 

I  ; 

*hi:  tko  tlio  church  were  t; 

nai:1 

oath  •  authority  —  the  c! 

men  —  the  stm^Lr!' 
ore: 

:  from  the  e:i 

••    II    "ill;-  the 

entr.  !:.-r  nmthor,  h. 

}•  flight.      Hi,' 


ICO  SOUTHWAIID  no! 

the  prelude  t<»  other  embrace*.  She  knows  hot,  unhappy  child, 
that  she.  '.-;  ;in  object  of  desire  to  another,  until  she  finds  lirr.-i  if 
lifted  in  the  grasp  of  Pietro  Barbaro,  the  tcriible  chief  of  tin;  I- 
tiiote  pirates,  lie  and  his  brothers  have  kept  their  pledges  '.> 
«.!ic  another,  and  they  have  been  successful  in  their  prey.  Their 
fierce  followers  liave  subdue*!  to  submission  the  struggles  of  a 
\\eap-. nless  multitude,  who,  with  horror  and  consternation,  behold 
the  loveliesl  vf  iheir  virgins,  the  just  wedded  among  them,  b<,ij.e 
away  upon  the  shoulders  of  the  pirates  to  their  warlike  gal' 
Those  who  resist  them  perish.  Resistance  was  hopelc 
fainting  and  shrieking  women,  like  the  Sahine  damsels,  are  hur 
ried  from  the.  sight  of  their  kinsmen  and  their  lovers,  and  the 
Istriote  galleys  are  about  to  depart  with  their  precious  freight 
Pietro  Baibaro,  the  chief,  stands  with  one  foot  upon  his  vessel's 
*ide  and  the  other  on  the  shore.  Still  insensible,  the  lovely 
Francesca  lies  upon  his  breast.  At  this  moment  the  skirt  of  his 
cloak  is  plucked  by  a  bold  hand.  lie  turns  to  meet  the  glance, 
of  the  Spanish  Gipsy.  The  old  woman  leered  on  him  with 
eyes  that  >eemed  to  mock  his  triumph,  even  while  she  appealed 

to  it. 

"  N  it  not  even  as  I  told  thee  —  as  I  showed  thee  ?"  was  her 

demand. 

"  It  is!"  exclaimed  the  pirate-chief,  as  he  flung  her  a  purse 
of  gold.  "  Thou  art  a  true  prophetess.  Fate  has  done  her 
work!" 

lie  was  gone;  his  galley  was  already  on  the  deep,  and  he 
himself  might  now  be  seen  kneeling  upon  the  deck  of  the  ves 
sel,  bending  over  his  precious  conquest,  and  striving  to  bring 
back  the  life  into  her  cheeks. 

"Ay,  indeed!"  muMer- -j  the  Spanish  (np^v,  "thoii  hast  h.Vi 
her  in  thy  arms,  b;:t  think  not,  reckless  robber  that  tliou  art, 
that  fate  has  dam  its  work.  The.  work  is  but  In-gim.  Fate  has 
kept  its  word  to  thee  ;  it  is  thy  weak  sense,  that  fancied  she  had 
nothing  more  to  >av  or  do  !" 

Even    as   she    spoke    these    \\ords,    the     -alleys    of    Giovanni 

•  •nig.,  were    standing    for   the    Lagune   of  Caorlo.      He   had 

succeeded  in  collecting   a   gallant    band  of  cavaliers  who   tacitly 

yielded    him    the    command.      The,    excitement    of    action    had 

ierved,  in  some  measure,  to  relieve  the   distress   under  which  ho 


•TIT    OF    TTIF.    PHI  \  • 

Tie  wns   no   longer   tin-   1  »ver,  hut   tlio   man;   nor  the 

merely,  hut  tlio  lender  of  iron.      (li<>vanni  was  endowed  for 

Ltnre,      Hi<  vain/  was  known.      It  had  hoon  tried  upon 

\"U   tliat  ho  was   persuaded  hy  the  Spanish    fSipsy, 

whom  all  helioved  and  feared,  that  a  nameless  and  torrihlo  dan- 

verhun::  his  \  hiell  was  to  ho  mot  and  hafilod  only 

pursuing,  his  whole    pers<>n  seemed  to  oe 

now  spirit.    The  youth,  his  companions,  wondeied 

t"  1  i-lmld  the  charge.      Thei'e  \\as   no   lonjjer   a   dreaminess  and 

and   movements,  hut  all  was  ])rompt,  en- 

;id    directly    to   tlie    (TOT]       •.      (liovanni    was    now    the 

lent  and  stvnnjj  man.      Knou^h  for  him  that  there  mix  dan 

ger.     Of  this   lie    no    Imiirer   entertained   a  fear.     Whether  the 

:«-r  tliar  v,  tged    to   throaten    France-ca  was   still 

.f    a    hope  —  as    the    prediction    of  the    Spanish    Clipsy 

11  warranf  —  may  very  well  he   questioned.      It  was  in 

don    of  his   hope,  that    his    energies   hecame    at 

equally  wrl!  and    intense.      lie    prompted  t<>  their 

lie   energies   "f  Others,      II.-  impelled  all  his  a^onci. 

rtions.      Oar  and   sail  were   husy  without  intormi<- 

the  eft'nrts  of  the  pursuers  were  rewarded.    A  _ 

hearing  Man,  drifted  alou^  their  path.      lie  was   a 

ivc  from  Olivi-hi,  who   jrave  them  the   iir>t    definite   idea   of 

lln-  the  pirates.      His  tid.n^s.  rendered  imjierfect  hy  his 

li  IT-  -till  enough  to  jrnad  the  juirsners  to  new  exertions. 

l-'ortune    fnvured    the    pursuit.      In  their  ha^te  the  pirate  galleys 

had  hoc.  '  :irnue.    The  k.-.-n  eye  of  • 

'.  anni  u,  iscover  them.      First   one   hark,  and  then 

in  siirht.  and    s«ou    tho  whole    piratical    : 
•liry  ui'L-fd  tlieir  emharrassod  progress  through  the 
intricacies  of  th<-  shallow  ffaJ 

Bingo,  hold  In-  •  .i"vanni  to  his  people;    "they 

v;ill    soon    he   upon   them.     They  can  not  now 
I 

The  eye  i.f  tin-  youthful  leader  hri«;htened  with    the   ON: 

ti"ti    of  the  declared    the 

sti'-:!Lrth  and  confidence  «>f  his  soul,  and  cheered  the  souls  of  all 

nrour.d    him.      The    sturdy  with    renewed 

prepared    their  weap-  us   for    the    conflict. 


102  SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 

Giovanni  signal!  nl  the  other  galleys  by  which  his  own  was  fol 
lowed. 

"  I  am  for  the  red  flag  of  Pietro  Barbaro  himself.  I  know  his 
banner.  Let  your  galleys  grapple  with  the  rest.  Cross  their 
path — prevent  their  flight,  and  bear  down  upon  the  strongest. 
Do  your  parts,  and  fear  not  but  we  shall  do  ours." 

With  these  brief  instructions,  our  captain  led  the  way  with  the 
Venetian  galleys.  The  conflict  was  at  hand.  It  ca)ne.  They 
drew  nigh  and  hailed  the  enemy.  The  parley  was  a  brief  one. 
The  pirates  cuuM  h«.pe  no  mercy,  and  they  asked  none.  But 
few  words,  accordingly,  were  exchanged  between  the  partit-s. 
and  these  were  not  words  of  peace. 

"  Yield  thee  to  the  mercy  of  St.  Mark!"  was  the  stern  sum 
mons  of  Giovanni,  to  the  pirate-chief. 

"  St.  Mark's  mercy  has  too  many  teeth!''  was  the  scornful 
reply  of  the  pirate.  "  The  worthy  saint  must  strike  well  before. 
Barbaro  of  Istria  sues  to  him  for  mercy." 

With  the  answer  the  galleys  grappled.  The  Venetians  leaped 
on  board  of  the  pirates,  with  a  fury  that  was  little  short  of  mad 
ness.  Their  wrath  was  terrible.  Under  the  guidance  of  the  f'crco 
Giovanni,  they  smote  with  an  unforgiving  vengeance.  It  was 
in  vain  that  the  Istriotes  fought  as  they  had  been  long  accus 
tomed.  It  needed  something  more  than  customary  valor  to  moot 
the  fury  of  their  assailants.  All  of  them  perished.  Mercy  now 
was  neither  asked  nor  given.  Nor,  as  it  seemed,  did  the  pirates 
care  to  live,  when  they  beheld  the  fall  of  their  fearful  leader 
He  had  crossed  weapons  with  Giovanni  Gradenigo,  in  wlr>m  he 
found  his  fate.  Twice,  thrice,  the  sword  of  the  latter  drove 
through  the  breast  of  the  pirate.  Little  did  his  conqueror  conjec 
ture  the  import  of  the  few  words  which  the  dying  chief  gasped 
forth  at  his  i'eet,  his  glazed  eyes  striving  to  pierce  the  deck,  ft 
if  seeking  some  one  within. 

"  I  have,  indeed,  had  thee  in  my  arms,  but — " 

There  was  no  more  —  death  finished  the  sentence!  The  vic 
tory  was  complete,  but  Giovanni  was  wounded.  Pietro  Barbaro 
was  a  fearful  enemy.  He  was  conquered,  it  is  true,  but  he 
had  made  his  mark  upon  his  conqueror.  He  had  bitten  deep 
'  efoie  he  fell. 

The  victors  retain  eel  with  thc-ir  spoil.    They  brought  back  the 


•  I'll. V  NT. 

saptured  brides  in  triuini.li.    That 

HIM. IP  t«>  conclude  the  hridal  e.-rein«>nips  wliicli  the  morning 
felly  united.      With    a    sinirle   excpptioi 

ed    ill.        That 

Francpsca    Ziani.      It 
lor   her   unnatural   parents   to  withstand 
Sentiment       The    do-e    hims.-lf.    Ti.-tro    Can.:' 
particularly  active    in    persuading   tlie    reluctant    mother  to 
it  to  wh;  •    evidently  the  will    of  destiny.      But  for 

!  '  .  it  is 

pml.ahle  >lip  never  would  have  yielded.      Hut  his  imhccility  and 
unmanly  terror  in  the  moment   of  danjrer,  had  heeu  too  conspic- 
K\'-ii  :ious  wealth   could   not  save  him  from  the 

Mid,  however  unwillingly,  the   paren; 

Kni,  bat  she  should  become    the    hride    of   i 

vanni.  as   the   only  proper  reward    for   the    gallantry  which   had 
Raved  her.  and  so  many  more,  from  shame. 

But  where  was  (liovanni  ?     His  friends  have  lieeu  despatched 
for  him;    v ,  hy   eomefl  he  not?     The   maid,  now   happy    heynn.l 
.]ie,  awaits  him  at  the  altar.     And  still  he  comes  not.     Let 
.  l.at-U  to  the  scene  of  action  in  the  moment  of  his  victory  over 
chief.     Barharo  lies  het'ore  him  in  the  agonies  of  death. 

•  •lit  the  much-dreaded  outlaw  to  his 

nit.  Hut  he  himself  is  wounded  —  wounded  severely 
but  not  mortally,  hy  the  man  whom  he  has  slain.  At  this  mo- 
miM.t  I  hltiw  from  the  av  >f  the  hroth, 

He    liad    strength    left    harely  to   hehold  and  to  ihoirf 
ink   fainting  upon  the  deck  of  the  p' 

farther  caw  derolred  upon  his  frien  who 

l-.srly  throu-h  all  the    ]>aths   of  dan- 
te  of  Mupor  he  lies  upon  the  couch  of  Nicolo.  \\heu 

•   his 

lied,"  she  said.     "  Th-  .nands  hi 

1    hestow   upon   him    his   bride.  Fr.-ince<ca   Ziani.      YOU 

him  thither." 

'I'l  k  his  head. 

••  It  D  IM  him,"  liim  thither 

>ti  a  litter,  so  that  he  shall  feel  no  j. 


164  SOUTHWARD   HO  ! 

"  It  wore  something  to  wake  him  from  this  apathy,"  mused 
the  surgeon.  "  Bo  it  as  tliou  wilt." 

Thus,  grievously  wounded,  was  the  noble  Giovanni  home  into 

the  midst  of  the  nssemhly,  for  each   member  of  which   he  had 

suffered    and    done   so    much.     The    soft    music   which    played 

around,   awakened    him.     His   eyes  unclosed    to    discover    the 

iy  Francesca,  tearful,  but  hopeful,  bending  fondly  over  him. 

She  declared  herself  his.     The  voice  of  the  doge  confirmed  the 

irance;   and  the  eyes  of  the  dying  man  brightened  into  the 

life  of  a  new  and  delightful  consciousness.     Eagerly  he  spoke; 

his  voice  was  hut  a  whisper. 

"  Make  it  so,  I  pray  thcc,  that  I  may  live !" 

The  priest  drew  nigh  with  the  sacred  unction.  The  mar- 
ria-v  service  was  performed,  and  the  hands  of  the  two  were 
clasped  in  one. 

"  Said  I  not  ?"  demanded  an  aged  woman,  who  approached 
the  moment  after  the  ceremonial,  and  whose  face  was  beheld  by 
none  but  him  whom  she  addressed.  "  She  is  thine  !" 

The  youth  smiled,  hut  made  no  answer.  His  hand  drew  that 
of  Francesca  closer.  She  stooped  to  his  kiss,  and  whispered 
him,  hut  he  heard  her  not.  With  the  consciousness  of  the 
sweet  treasure  that  he  had  won  after  such  sad  denial,  the  sense 
grow  conscious  no  longer  —  the  lips  of  the  youth  were  sealed 
for  ever.  The  young  Giovanni,  the  bravest  of  the  Venetian 
youth,  lay  lifeless  in  the.  embrace  of  the  scarcely  more  living 
Francesca.  It  was  a  sad  day,  after  all,  in  Venice,  since  its  tri 
umph  was  followed  by  so  great  a  loss;  but  the  damsels  of  the 
ocean  city  still  declare  that  the  lovers  were  much  more  blest  in 
Oiis  fortune,  than  had  they  survived  for  the  embrace  of  others 
less  beloved. 

ve  I  not  read  something  like  this  story  in  a  touching  and 
•nitic  episode  given  in  the  •  Italy'  of  Rogers  ?"  asked  Salina 
Burroughs. 

"  Yes !     Rogers  got  it  from  the  history.     It  is  one  of  those 

incident*  which  enrich  and  enliven  for  romance  the  early  prog- 

of  most   states   and   nations  that  ever  arrived  at  character 

and  civilization.     Of  course,  like  the  famous  legends  of  infant 

Rome,  it  undergoes  the  artist  touch  of  successive  historians  all 


THE    Hl.-'l'UKlAN     AN    AIM.  10-> 

of  whom,  in  early  periods,  rxnvised   in   some   decree   the    privi. 

I  ..f  tin-  artist,  if  not  the  romancer." 

"The  event  orcurs  in  tin-  fn>t  periods  •  f  Veiu-tian  story, 
soincwlu're  aliout  A.  1).  9o^,  the;  rei^niii^  do^u  ln'in^  Candiano 
the  Second.  It  is  ^ood  material  f..r  the  dramatist.  I  should 
cumiiuMiil  it  to  Mr.  looker,  as  the  subject  oi  an  operatic  melo 
drama.  In  the  hands  of  our  youn«;  friend  llarvcl,  it  could  he 
_;iit  into  a  very  jiretty  aiul  delicate  ai  '  dreamy  vsoik  «»f 
sentimental  hction." 


CHAPTER   X 

A  r.«>\<;.  and  to  us  a  comparatively  interesting:,  conversation 
followed,  —  Virginia,  her  resources,  character:- •  oeij,  and 

general  moral, affording  the  principal  Milject.  In  tliis  convcisa- 
tion,  which  occasionally  ran  into  politics  —  in  which  some  of  tin 
party  showed  their  teeth  very  decidedly  —  the  whole  of  our 
group  was  brought  out,  the  ladies  excepted.  They  had  retired 
for  the  night.  Most  of  us  had  rambled  in  Virginia  at  different 
periods;  and  it  was  in  the  delivery  of  recollections  and  ini) 
sions  that  we  passed  naturally  into  discussion.  1  prop-ise  to 
give  bits  only  of  this  conversation,  leaving  out  the  bites  —  con- 
lining  my  report  to  the  innocuous  portions  of  the  dialogue,  and 
omitting  certain  sharp  passages  which  occasionally  funowed  tin- 
thoughtless  or  the  wanton  shaft.  One  of  our  "Down-East" 
brethren  threw  down  the  ball  of  provocation,  dealing  in  a  whole- 
rale,  if  not  wholesome,  diatribe  against  all  Southern  agriculture. 
As  his  opinions  are  those  of  a  somewhat  numerous  class,  and  as 
they  are,  working  no  little  mischief  at  the  present  day,  it  may 
be  as  well  to  record,  with  tolerable  fullness,  the  portion  of  the 
dialogue  which  ensued  upon  their  utterance. 

••  You   pass  through  Virginia,"  said    he,  "as  through  a  desert. 
The  towns  are,  lew,  and   these  all  look  old   and  wretched.      The 
houses  need  paint,  and  are  frequently  in  dilapidation.      The  cul 
ture  ih  coarse,  and  clumsy,  the    implements  rude,  and    the  people 
I    entirely    ignorant    of    all    improvements.       'They    plough 
plant,  and    reap,  precisely  as  their  fathers  did   a   hundred    years 
.  ami  without    doing  any  justice   to   their  lands.      The    lands 
have  never   been    properly  worked,  and    manures  aie    but   little 
known,   ami    les.s  esteemed.      In    favorite    regions,  along   water 
courses  easilv  an-cs^ii'le,  the    plantations   have  been  abandoned 
ntirely  <•  \hau-ted  —  M>ld   for  a  song,  at  an  average,  perhaps, 
<•)' a  dollar  an  acre.      The  same  :he.  hand*  oi  New  York 

farmers,   have     been    bougi.t    up.  improved,  made    valuable    foi 


CITY    AND    COUNTUY    LIFK.  107 

1    f<>  a  value  ranging    from    fifteen  to 

ntv-ti.v  dollars   per  acre.      Thirty  bushels  of  wheat  liave  been 

to  tlie  acre,  on  tracts  which  liave  been  thrown  cut  as  bar- 

A  like  historv  IM-!  N'orth  and  South  Carolina,  where 

similar    ignorance   of  fanning,   and    of  agricultural    implements, 

and   cliini.-iiioj-s   in  the  cultivation  of  the  S"il, 

led   to  similar  results  —  the  disparaged  value  of  the  lands, 

thrir  abandonment,  and   the   neglect   and   dilapidation  of  towns 

and  hoi;- 

••  Y«u  simplv  know  nothing  about  the  matter,"  said  one  of  the 
,-j'lv  in  reply — "  or  rather,  you  know  just  enough  of  the 
t-uth  to  involve  yourself  in  a  mon>trous  error.     I  too  have  trav- 
<  ;led  in  the  regions  ot  which  you  speak,  and  can  venture  to  -ay 
••:hii:g  on  the  subject,  which  has  its  bright  as  well  as  gloomy 
It  i*  not  all  gloomy,  though  it  is  seldom  that  the  hur 
rying  traveller  sees  or  any  other.     That  you  see  few 
(  r  i.                   ,;id  tb.\t  these  look  desolate,  are  the  natural  effects 
••f  the  lilr                  ,<le  purely  agricultural.     The  southern  people 
•  '  *  not  li'-e  in  towns  if  they  ca:i   av«»id   them.     The  culture  and 
<-,  'nnia'id   oi'                                     f  land  and   forest  give   them  a 
di-ta>te    to    citv  lift',  where    they   feel    restrained   by  a   sense  of 
••nt,    and    by    manners   of  artificial    character  —  a    rigid 
.-ntionaliMii  impo./mg  fetters  upon  that  ease  and  freedom  of 
:ng  which    belongs  tot!  I    population.     Besides,  pub- 
pinioii    in   the    South    is   unl'iiendly  to   the   growth  of  large 
:  :ch    many  of  their  leading  minds  hold   to  be  alwa\ 

moral    tendency — as,  indeed,  the    Xurth 

BT.     Mr.  Jril.Tx'ii  pronounced  them  the 
omonwealth,  to  be  tolerated  only  as 

;rty  national  &8j    and  the    ifi.\tincfji  of   the 

:    the  agricultural  p.ipulat'nni  have  led  them  rightly 

•'.on.      They  have   learned    to  doubt  the  whole- 

ihc  atmo>phere  of  city  life.      Regarding    ti»\vns  aa 

the    I  pr-idui-er,  they   d<»    not  -    SCO 

population    than    is   necessary  to  the 

'.;ch  they  have  to  perform. 

:,  at  the  N«.  th,  on  the    contrary,  look   to  your  flooriaoing 

Of,  your   fine   hou-  ;    brick  and    .st-n.i',  with 

-tling  in  the  thoroughfares,  as   proofs  of 


108  SOUTHWARD    HO! 

;unl  civilization;  though,  of  these  thousands,  thousands  live  bj 
beggary,  by  theft,  chicanery,  and  the  constantly  active  exer- 
of  a  thousand  evil  arts — the  inevitable  consequence  of 
neee>sities  which  could  not  arise  to  the  community  were  tin: 
unnecessary  members  driven  to  an  honest,  healthy,  industrioi;-? 
occupation  in  neglected  fields  of  agriculture.  You  judge,  mostlv 
l.y  externals,  which  rarely  show  the  truth  —  the  people  in  cities 
being  chiefly  learned  in  the  art  of  concealing  their  true  c<md".- 
lion,  and  making  the  best  show  to  their  neighbors  ;  while  the 
Southern  agriculturists  know  nothing  of  this  art,  exhibit  them- 
>elves  precisely  as  they  are  ;  use  no  white  paint  to  cover  old 
boards  —  no  stucco  to  make  common  brick  look  like  stone  ;  and 
satisfied  with  the  real  •  comforts  of  their  condition,  oever  busy 
themselves  in  the  endeavor  to  impose  upon  their  neighbor* 
the  splendors  of  a  season  which  would  only  lead  to  bankruptcy. 

"The  dilapidated  Virginia  farmhouse,  for  example,  will  ro 
ceive  more  guests,  at  the  family  table,  in  one  month,  than  the 
marble  palace  in  Broadway  or  Fifth  Avenue  will  entertain  in 
one  year.  There  will  be  always  plenty  and  a  generous  wel 
come,  though  the  service  be  of  delph  and  not  of  silver. 

"  That   we    have  not   towns   and  villages    is  the   inevitable 
result  of  staple  cultivation.     Ecery  plantation   /.v  a  fiUa^c,  and 
where  it  is  a  large  one,  it  will   be  found   provided  with   all  the 
e--ential   elements  of  progress  and    performance,  prccisel;. 
they  are  to  be  found  in  a  village.     Here,  for  example,  is  ah 
a  blacksmith  and   a  carpenter,  possiblv  a  wheelwright,  and   fre 
quently  a  shoemaker;  while,  in  place  of  a  hotel,  for  the  recep 
tion    of  the  stranger,  is   the   mansion-house  of   the    planter  — 
wanting  in  paint,  I  grant — of  ancient  fashion,  uncouth  architec 
ture —  the   floors,  perhaps,  not   carpeted,  and   the  furniture   .if 
that    dark,   massive    mahogany   which    the   city   of   New   York 
would   revolt  at,  but  which  carries  to  my  mind  an  idea  of  the 
dignity  of  an  ancient  race,  and  that  reverence  for  the  antiqu.- 
which  is,  perhaps,  too  much  wanting  in  every  part  of  our  coun 
try,  except  the  old  .\tatrx  of  tin-  N«/////. 

"  This  ancient  mansion  will  be  found  usually  with  its  doors 
thrown  wide  —  in  sign  of  welcome.  Lest  you  should  doubt,  a8 
you  approach  it,  you  behold  the  planter  himself  descending  tlu; 
old  brick  steps  to  welcome  you  You  will  be  coniounded  to  see 


•  ."MV. 

fa  neither  line  n«»r  fa.shionahle —  that  he  wears 
broad-brimmed    white    liat,    exceedingly   ample,  which 

,,l:lv   have   been  manufactured  l'»r  his  grandfather,     II' 

['  white  ilannel,  and  nut  at  the  dhows  ;    and  his  panta 
loons    will    In-   of    domestic    manufacture,   homespun    nr    nankin 
u  are    \\ise    enough    to    look    below  the    externals, 
yon  will    sec,  perhaps,  that    he  has  learned    U)  Mem  — at 

all  event-, you  will  pereeh  e  that  he  has  sacrifice. I  fort';. 
of  the  esM'iitials  of  the  host,  the  -entleman,  nr  the  patriot. 
Im^pitalitv  is  unimpaired   hy  his  antiquity —  nay,  it  forms  a  part 
-and    in    the;    retention   of  the   one,  he    has    retained    the 
i-  of  necessity.     As   a  gentleman,  he   is  frank 
and  eas\    of   manner,  unaiVected  in  his  hearing,  and    always  soli 
your  comfort  and  satisfaction,      lie  does  not  Duller  you 
to    perceive  that    he  would    have    been    better   pleased    that 
should  have  admired  his  line  h"Use,  and  passed  on  without  task- 
Lta    hospitality.      Tlie-e    are    characteristics    which    must    he 
taken  a>  an  offset  to  ;i.  .  hich  you  select  for  censure. 

•nr.il  consequence  "f  staple  cul 
ture.      It    is   the    farming    culture    which    exhibits    and    requires 
much  nicety  of  detail.      In  the  hands  of  the  planter  of  a  Maple, 
lauds  are  held    in  bodies  too  larj;e  to    be    handled   minutely,      ll 
i>  the  small    plat  nnly  which  you  can  put  In    bandbox  condition, 
hands  in  staple  countries  are  of  !(•>>  value  than  labor  —  in  farm- 
.  .eater  value  than  labor.      In  proportion  as  the 
Ration  h.  .i-e,they  I'ise  in  value.      Hut  tew  southern 

plai  6    population.      <  )m  f   their  1, 

;|,r  extei  of   their  f!  A   wealthy  planter. 

ha\':.  to  ii\c  hun-ireii    slaves,  will    have  t'roin  a  hun- 

;.    to    a    th.Misand    head  «f  cattle.      He    kills   BO   many  b. 

iin^   to  hisyw/rr.      Th,; 
H   to    be  slaughtered,  even    tliou-h    bu1 
hi-,    h.-spitality,  is    due    to    his   . 

J'H.I,  !.     Ee  feldom  tendt  any  of  hiB sheep, cattle, < 

I   to  market.  dl    retained   for  tho 

wa:  id. 

M  It  \\ill  not  do  for  yon,  reco-nisin-  the  peculiar  characteristics 
of  his  mode  of  life— theii  68,  comforts,  and    bounties — 

to  cavil  ul  deficiencies,  which   co'.:!d    only    be   remedied   by  his 

8 


170  SOUTHWAUI)    HO! 

ahandonmei.t  of  liaVits  which  are  grateful  to  the  virtues,  and 
which  maintain  in  him  the  essentials  of  all  high  character— 
dignity  and  reverence." 

"  But  there  must  be  an  end  to  all  this  hospitality.  The  south 
ern  planter  is  not  prosperous.  His  fields  are  failing  him  —  his 
staples  are  no  longer  valuable." 

"Sufficient  for  the  clay  is  the  evil  thereof.  Give  us  time. 
Let  time  answer  your  prophecy  ;  for  it  is  prediction  —  not  argu 
ment,  not  fact — wliich  you  assert.  There  is  no  need  that  his 
hospitality  should  be  at  an  end.  It  only  needs  that  it  should 
be  more  discriminating,  and  that  the  southern  planter  should 
steadily  close  his  door  against  those  who  come  to  eat  his  bread 
only  to  denounce  the  manner  in  which  it  is  made,  and  to  sleep 
securely  beneath  his  roof  only  to  leave  curses  rather  than  pi. 
behind  them.  He  must  only  be  sure  that  his  guest,  when  a 
stranger,  is  a  gentleman  and  an  honest  man;  and  he  will  prob 
ably,  with  this  modification  of  his  hospitality,  never  be  wanting 
in  the  necessary  means  for  satisfying  it. 

"  But,  touching  his  prosperity,  1  hold  it  to  be  the  greatest 
mistake  in  the  world  —  examining  things  by  just  and  intrinsic 
laws  —  to  suppose  that  he  is  not  prosperous.  The  southern 
planter  does  not  derive  from  his  labors  so  large  a  money  iiu 
as  he  formerly  did,  when  the  culture  of  his  great  staple  was 
comparatively  in  few  hands.  It  is  .something  different,  certainly, 
to  receive  twenty  cents  instead  of  one  hundred  for  long  cotton.-. 
and  six  cents  instead  of  thirty  for  short.  But,  in  fact,  the  dif 
ference  does  not  substantially  affect  his  prosperity,  if  In  b<-  nut 
alrcad <i  in  d('l>(.  In  the.  period  of  high  prices  for  his  staples,  he 
could  readilv  abandon  farming  culture,  to  his  les.s  prosjn 
neighbors,  leaving  it  to  other  slates  to  supply  his  grain,  his  for 
.  his  vegeta'  les,  his  cattle,  mules,  and  hoix-s,  for  wliich  he 
could  well  afford  to  pay  from  the.  excess  of  his  income.  Hut 
with  his  resources  reduced,  his  policy  necessarily  changes,  and 
-anting  hourly,  in  recognition  of  new  laws  and  new  necessi 

This  change  effected,  his  property  will  continue  as  b<  : 
though    actually  no    great    amount  of  money  pas-e-  through    his 
hands.      His    fields,   that    icvrc    lading   him   when   he    addiv 
them  wholly  to   the    culture   of   a   single   Maple,  are    recovering, 
now  that  he  alternates  his  crops,  and  economizes,  prepares,  aiid 


IXIUVinrALS  J71 


mi]  '  manure.      lie  ;;in   ,uul   provisions. 

lie  raises  hi<  «>wn   hog<  and    cattle,  ami    his   ploughs  are  driven 

by  mules  and   Inn  !  in   his  own   pastures.     He  disi 

that   he  is  m»t  worse  oil'  now,  in   raising  the  commodities  thein- 

seh  •«•<.  for  the  purchase  of  which  lie  simply  raised  the  cash  be- 

:   and  he  forth*  rera   that,  under  the  present  system, 

'•iin«imi/e   land   and    labor,  to   improve  the   quality 

te  excellence  of  the  labor;  land  rises  in  value 

with   the  introduction  of  thorough  tillage;   and  a  cleanlier,  more 

method  of  culture,  increases  the  health  of  the  climate 

i-erity  of  the  planters.      With  thorough  tillage 

he  can  feed  his  stock,  and  thus  lessen  the  extent  of  his  ranges  ; 

and  gradually-increasing  denseness  of  the  set 

tlements,  which  are  all  that  is  necessary  to  rendering  the  state 

afl  the  individual  has  b» 

••  What  do  you  mean  by  this  distinction?" 

••  1:  ifl  one  thaf  politicians  do  not  often   make,  and  it  const** 

..tun.1  in  which  the  southern  states  are  deficient 

to  a  iiurt  hern  '-ye.      It  occasions  some  of  the  difficulties  in  your 

modes    of  real  The    wealth    of   the    state    must    depend 

'y   upon    its  milliners.     The   wealth  of  the  individual   will 

ud  chiefly  upon  himself.     The  people  of  a  state  may  be  all 

in  the  enjoyment  of  comfort  and  afiluence,  yet  the  state  may  bo 

ThU  is  the  case  with  all  the  southern  states,  the  govern- 

.  hich  has  a  sparsely-set  tied  population  on  which  to  act. 

When-   the    population  is  thinly  planted,  the   roads  will   be  infe- 

;  uhlic  work.-,   ini'retjueiit   and  of  mean  appearance,  and 

the  i  lich  depend  wholly  upon  a  contiguous  back  country 

.;;  \\ill   stagnate  in  visible   decline,  wanting   entei, 

i     •    road*,  the  public  buildings,  and  the  cities,  by 

wiih-li  ;he  stranger  judgefl  of  the  pi-.L-j.nity  of  a  people,  will  all 

,    .pulation  of  a  state.      If  this  be  large  —  if  the 

the    p..\\ers  of    taxation   are    necessarily 

enlarged,  without,  perhaps,  growing  burdensome  to  any  ;    but  tho 

-pomlingly  diminished   in  the  hands 

of   li  .      Want    and    poverty  will    trouble    thou- 

J*  rich   at   the  of  the    est  ;   with 

will  be  incessant  from  morning 

to  night,  to  supply  the  most  limited  »\anta  ••!  a  painful  existence. 


1V2  SUIT  II  \VAUD    HO  ! 

Bui  iis  the  .southern  states,  where  the  public  works  are  few,  the 
public  buildings  humble,  and  the  cities  of  difficult  growth  or  of 
nditiou,  the  great  body  of  the  people —  nay,  all 
the  people,  bond  and  five ---live  in  the  enjovnient  nf  pleiitv 
vdways,  and,  in  m..M  eases,  of  a  wondrous  decree  of  comfort. 

"To  illustrate  this  more  completely  by  parallels:  (iivnt 
Britain  and  France  are,  of  course,  immeasurably  superior,  not 
-.•lily  to  the  southern  Mates  of  the  Union,  but  to  all  the  States, 
North  and  South,  in  the  wonders  of  art,  the  great  thoroughfares, 
the  noble  buildings,  and  the  gigantic  cities.  These  an-  eiTi.ne.- 
ou-dy  assumed  to  be  the  proofs  of  prosperity  in  a  nation,  when  it 
•Miewhat  doubtful  if  they  can  be  even  regarded  as  just  proofs 
of  its  civilixation.  But,  in  Great  Britain  and  France,  millions 
rise  every  morning,  in  doubt  where  they  shall  procure  the  daily 
bread  which  shall  satisfy  the  hunger  of  nature  through  the  next 
twelve  hours.  No  such  apprehension  ever  troubles  the  citi/cn 
of  the.  rural  districts  of  the  South.  Rich  and  poor,  black  and 
white,  bond  and  free,  are  all  superior  to  this  torturing  anxiety  ; 
and  the  beggar,  who  in  the  great  cities  of  Europe  and  America 
-  frequent  as  their  posts,  is  scarcely  ever  to  be  seen,  even,  in 
'ithern  city — and  then  he  is  chiefly  from  a  northern  city, 
whence  he  flies  to  a  region,  of  the  hospitality  of  which  (in  spite 
of  its  failing  fortunes)  some  vague  rumors  have  reached  his  ears. 
Me  Hies  from  the  proud  and  prosperous  cities  of  the  North,  seek 
ing  his  bread  at  the  hands  of  a  people  whom  you  profess  to 
despise  for  their  decline." 

"  "With  these  convictions,  why  do  you  repine  and  complain?" 
"  I  do  neither.  To  do  either  is  unmanly.  That  the  southern 
people  do  complain,  more  than  is  proper  and  needful,  is  surely  a 
something  to  be  regretted  ;  since  he  who  pauses  to  complain 
will  probably  never  overtake  his  flying  prosperity.  But.  that 
there  should  be  gloom  and  despondency  is  but  natural  with  a 
people  who,  without  positively  suffering  in  fortune  or  comfort,  are 
yet  compelled,  by  large  transitions  of  fortune,  to  contrast  their 
prrxj-nt  with  their  past.  It  is  not  that  we  are  ruined  now,  but 
that  we,  remember  how  fortunate  we  were  before.  If  we  com 
pare  ourselves  with  other  people,  and  not  with  ourselves,  we 
ehall  probably  congratulate  ourselves  rather  than  complain." 
"  With  yuur  views,  you  are  then  satisfied  that  your  people 


,-    op  Tin:  M,?-TTT. 

«hon1d  continue  niral  'y.  to  the  ivj, 

of  inanufactn 

"Bv  n.>  means       I  am  anxim;  --ontrary.  that   Mir  peo- 

•id-ark    in    r\  «-rv    .lepartment   of   art  and    trad* 
which  they  themselves  Or  "Mr  climate  may  In-  fitted,  if  only  that 
we  may  he  perfectly  independent  of  our  northern  brethren, 
have    abundance   of   water-power    all    over   ;ln'  South  ;    we  i 
the  -   on  '-In-  spot  :    aip  I  all    tin-    raw  materials 

fur    manufactures.      (  Mir  water-power   never   C0n§ 

with    fn>s<  ,    uiir   op.-rati .  ••  .    m-ver  w.»rk    slmrt.  or   strike    for   in- 

B,    for    we    alwajfl    k«  ep    them    well    fed    and    well 

clotlu-d  ;    wr  pen>'mn  their  a^ed  ;    \\  e  protect  and  provide  lor  their 

VOUIIL:;    and.  in-tead  of   hi-in^  sickly    at    the   toils    we    imp-is--  — 

puny  and   perishin::  —  thry  are   always  fat  and   frolicsome,  and 

always,    on    the  im  nd  cotton    is    every  da\  into 

.  as    eh'thini:  for  the   poorer  races  of  mankind. 

in    the  introduction  of  manufactures,  I    do  not   piopnM>  that 

ahai:doii    .-my    of   our   staples:    I    pi- 

that  we   should   only  employ   our   surplus   population   and   1 
the  purpo-M-.      There   an»  lar^e  tracts  ot    territory,  for    63 
jde,  in   the   ('arolinas,  which    answer   for  neither  cotton,  tol  . 
nor  the    small*  .       Ill    these  very  re^i'-ns,  then1    is  A«. 

power  in  abundance;    and  where  this   is    not    the    ca-c.  there   is 
fuel    in    inexhaustible    ahundance.   for   the   use   of  steam-powi-r. 
'lie  wraith  of    the  state  hy  the  application 
:.s  to  their  pmpcr  OSe.91 

"  lint    if   your  wh<>le    c.,nntry    should    hec-mie    manufacturing, 
M!I\    DOl  .'      The  profits  of    manufactures  are  vastly  greater  than 
tln»se   of    the    cotton    culture.      I    have    seen    >omc    statistics    of 
South  Carolina,  where  it  is  estimated  that  seven  hundred  0] 
t  ''/.e   U    la  -  -nit.  in    working   up   t!. 

f  of   twenty-live    thousand    people    in   in;  ' 
the    raw    material.      Thev  will    \\--.rk    up    seven    thousand    1 
triplicating    its    value,  while    the    twenty-five    thousand    av- 
hut  a  single  !-ale  to  each  inhahitant." 

"This  is  th,.  -  9  \\hiidi    delude    the  world.      It    is 

.ips  true  that  a  «ii>tr;.'t  of  Sovf;.  Carolina  liavi-  J    iivo 

thousand  peoph-  will  send  hut  t  .    thon-ai, 

ton    to    market.      It    i-    td*0    hPUC,    pe.rhaps.  that    ei-h:    hun-lre-l 


174  SOUTHWARD    HO! 

operatives  in  a  manufactory  will,  l>y  their  1  iboi,  i 
fol<l  the  value  of  eight  thousand  bales,  making  a  total  of  market- 
values  equal  to  the  twenty -five  thousand  bale.-.     But  when  tiu 
operatives  have  done  this,  they  have  d,.ne  nothing  more  than 
'red  and  clothe  themselves,  while,  in  fact,  the  cotton-planter  has- 
tv!it  nothing  but  his  ii/rplux  crop  into  the  market.     He  has  lived 
und  fed  well,  with  all  his  Operatives  besides       Of  the  twentx 
thousand  persons  in  agriculture,  twehe  tliousand  enjoy  Inxr, 

•. -dl  a>  cnmforts,  whieh  are  not  common  to  Hie  cities.  They 
have  more  leisure;  they  enjoy  more  BOCietj)  m«»>t  nf  them  ride 
on  liorseback,  and  the  greater  numbtv  of  families  keep  carriage 
or  buggy.  Nothing  is  said  of  the  variety  of  food  which  they 
jomniaiid,  or  may  command  —  the  delights  of  their  own  homes, 
in  their  own  grounds,  their  own  gardens  and  firesides;  and  the 
.  the  independence  and  elasticity,  which  belong  to  him  who 
lives  in  the  air  and  sunshine;  in  exercises  which  are  grateful; 
and  retires  from  his  toils  at  an  early  hour,  to  the  enjoyineir 
his  homestead  and  his  sleep.  lUit  talking  of  sleep  reminds  me 
of  supper.  Captain,  if  my  nose  does  not  greatly  err,  wj  are  in 
the  latitude  of  the  old  North  State.  I  have  been  smelling  iai 
and  turpentine  for  the  last  half  hour." 


CII  A  I'TKR    XI. 

<  't  i:  :i  had  taken  an  e><ayical  form,  and  was  fast  lofr 

nii:  its  inti'i-e.-t.      (  '  dpMiltcrilv,  it  became  descriptive. 

•    I  v  :iin«r  tlir.mjrli  North   Can-linn  la  -  ."  said 

'     '  lit,  "  and  •  ".<•(]  upon 

hy  a   hale   and   rather   pursy  eld   tanner,  with   a   1 
and  curious  examination  on  the  subject  of  South  Carolina  por 

•he  threat!  O  movement. 

•"  W»  11.'  what   an  pie  irwinr  to  do  in 

kil    yon    in    ai:;  r — 'I    think    so!' — 'And 

what  wii;  cut    loose  f — 'It    is  not  improbable.' — 'But 

'  liy  HM  means.     ! 

;    wh.-thc;-   tin •!<•'>   a    n  r   separar 

tljciv  little    dnil.t  that  a  vast  niajority  favors  t! 

ofederaey.'— -' And  do  yi.u  reckon   that 

the    Tedi'ial    (JovcrniiHMit  will    1-  ff   (piietly.' — '  It    is 

•''on^ht     ;  ' — •  Hut    yonf — 'I     think 

otheruiv...       I    think    tln-y    ?an    hardly    sutler   us    to    do    so.      It 
would   l»e   fatal    to   their  reveni;.  ' — •  "Well,  and   if  they 

try  to  put  you  down  —  wh.v  --wine  to  do?' — •  I  sii] 

irry  the  attack  into  the  enemy's  coinitrv,  an-! 

put  thcni  dou-n   in    turn.' — 'That'.-   ri-ht.  and    I'm  one  of  them 
that  hand  whem-ver   you  want    help.      I 

aint  «.f  the  way  of  thinking  of  M : .  \^  ..-krry  (it  mav  1  Q  Pir! 
—  1  '  in^'  of  the   sort    it    is),  who 

nment  a^in  y 

inei,  ;  down.      I    reckon    th- 

*i  t:  v,  ith    him.     He's  a  native   from    j 

I'm    a-thinkin  !,.  in 

arolina.  hut    1  nd,  and    true 

grit,  ami  t  n't  think  :ht,  in  what  you're 

3  i;t!.  ( !arolin*'i  d 

and    mighty  apt    to  •;-.•  olV  at  a  halt'  C  die's 


(76  SOUTHWARD    H0\ 

too  quick,  wo  believe  it's  a  quickness  pretty  much  on  the  right 
side.  I'm  a-thinking  there's  no  chance  for  us  in  the  eend,  unless 
wr  cut  loose  from  the  whole  Yankee  eor.sarn.  Old  Isaac  < 
pidge,  one  of  my  neighbors,  he  said  more  than  twenty  years  ago, 
when  you  was  for  Nullifying  —  that  you  would  do  right  to  lireak 
up  the  Union,  you  South-Carolinians  —  that  the  Union  was  jest 
a  smi  of  Union  between  a  mighty  fat  frog  and  a  hungry  hlack- 
sn.-.ko  —  that  the  fat  frog  was  the  South,  and  the  hungry  snake 
the  North.  And,  says  he,  it's  because  the  frog  is  so  hig  a; 
fat,  that  the  snake  kaint  swallow  him  all  at  once.  But  the  snake's 
:'ast  hold,  and  the  frog's  a-gitting  weaker  every  day  —  and 
every  day  a  little  more  of  him  goes  down  ;  when  the  day  comes 
that  the  frog  gives  up  and  lies  quiet,  the  snake'll  finish  him. 
That  was  what  old  Ike  Coppidge  used  to  say,  and  jest  what  he 
says  now.  As  I  said,  my  friend,  we  don't  altogether  like  your 
doings,  hut  there's  a  many  among  us,  who  didn't  like  'em  in  the 
Nullification  times.  But  we  see  that  the  thing's  getting  worse, 
the  frog's  gitting  lower  and  lower  in  the  snake's  swallow,  and 
wi-'ve  hafe  a  notion  that  you're  pretty  nigh  to  be  right  efter  all. 
We'd  like  you  to  wait  a  hit  on  us;  hut  ef  you  don't,  we'll  have 
a  turn  at  the  pump-handle,  whenever  there's  a  fire  in  your 
house.  There's  miu'htv  few  that  think  with  Squire  Dickery  (or 
Dockery).  and  we'll  git  right  side  up  before  we're  swallowed. 
1  kiu  tell  you  that  Clingman  will  distance  his  man  by  three  thou 
sand  votes,  or  I'm  a  sinner  in  mighty  great  danger.'  " 

The  anecdote  brought  out  one  of  our  passengers  from  North 
Carolina,  who  had  not  before  spoken.  He  showed  himself 
equally  jealous  of  Virginia  on  one  hand,  and  South  Carolina  on 
the  other.  The,  Virginian  dashed  in  ;  and  in  a  little  while  the 
conversation  became  general.  But  we  soon  subsided  again  intc 
•  ription, 

"Harper's    lYrry    disappointed   me,"   said   one  of  the   party 

In  fact,  the   traveller  wonders  at   that   extravagance  of  admira 

tion,  which,  in   the  case  of  Mr.  Jefferson   and  others,  dilated   ii 

terms  of  such   wonder  and   admiration,  upon   the   sublimity  anr 

ndeur  of  a  scene,  which   in   n<>  place  rises  above  the  pictu 

rr-qi:e.      It    is  impM.-sihle   for  anyh'idy   to   identify  any   spot  113 

neighborhood   '.vith  the  scene  described  bv  the  sage  of  Mon 

ilo.     But  Jefferson,  though  a  very  great  man.  in  certaio  re 


m 

'  >r  a  humbug.    His  rapeilathres  wen 

en  where   liis  imagination  was   unexc'r  ed. 

barely  poxxihle   that  lie  liims«df  felt  the  wonders  which    lie 

il  c-1  as  visible  in  this  region;  but  to  most  other  persons  his 

ription  appear-    ti»  In-  the  superb  of  hyperbole.      The    scene 

i-    Undoubtedly    a    fine    niie  —  pleasing    and    picture-que.       The 

jiuu-tion,  of  two  broad  rivers,  at  the  feet  of  double  mountain  ran- 

ran    not    be   Otherwise.       Heauty    is   here,    and    dignity,    anil 

the  eye  lingers  with  gratification  upon  the  sweet  pictures  which 

:na«le  of  tl  at   the  rising  and  the  setting  of  the  sun. 

Standing  upon  a  jagged  peak  below  the  junction,  and  suffering 

the  eye  to  sweep  over  the  two  broad  gorges  within   its  range  — 

:i  .xh.pes  gradually  a>eending  from,  or  abnipt  rocks  sullenly 

hanging   aliove,  the    shallow    waters   glittering   in   the   sunlight, 

you  will  naturally  choose   a  hundred  different  spots   upon  which 

would  fancy  the  appearance  of  a  Gothic  or  Grecian  cott 

Hut  no  ideas  of  majesty,  grandeur,  force,  power  or  sublimity,  lift 

you  into  the  regions  of  enthusiasm.      The  rivers  are  shallow  and 

There    are   no   impetuous    rages,    no    fierce,  impulsive 

no   fearful   strifes  with   crag,  and  boulder  —  no  storms. 

no  torrent-,  no  agonies  of  conflict  between  rock  and  river.     The 

•    only  placid,  but  quiet  even   to  tameness.     They 

i    to    have    made    their  way  through    the    rocks   insidiou.slv  ; 

with    the    gliding    simi'-ify  of  the    snake,  rather    than    the    wild 

flight  of!  or  the  mighty  rush  of  the  tiger.      They  have 

the    mountain    citadels,    not    stormed    them;    and    }:< 
could  ha1.  the  volume  to  have  done  otherwise.      The 

'iption  of   Mr    .1  would  better  suit  the  French  Hroad 

•lina.  to  which    tin  .t   Harper's    Ferry  can 

not  for  a  moment  compare,  whether  as  regard •»  beautv.  maj.- 

.'"limity.  In  contrast,  the  streams  are  ab<..lut«'lv  sluggish. 
They  neither  ri\e.  m.r  rend,  nor  rage,  nor  roar  among  the  rocks. 
They  havr  no  wild  rapids,  no  foaming  wrath,  no  headlong  plun- 

MO  boiling   abys.xes,  and    to    him  who  got-s   thither,  with 
mind  full  ..I'M,.  .1-  ::    ,     >n'l  d.-.i  iption,  there  is  nothing  in  reser\e 
but  (lisaj)poin;; 

••  Hut  what  of  th*  Shenandoah  Va! 

"The  valley  ..f  tlie  Sheirindoah  might  reali/e  to  the  vouthful 
romanc.T  his  most  pen  f  Arcadia.      Uejiosing  cosily  in 


178  SOUTH  \v  \!;D  no  ! 

the  bosom  of  protecting  mountains,  she  unfolds  to  the  embrac  j 
of  the  sun  the  most  prolific  beauties.  Her  charms  are  of  a  sort 
to  inspire  the  most  perfect  idylls,  and  to  mature  the  mind  for 
contemplation,  and  to  enliven  the  affections  for  enjoyment.  A 
dream  of  peace,  sheltered  by  the  wings  of  security,  seems  to 
hallow  her  loveliness  in  the  sight  of  blue  mountains,  and  the 
smiling  heavens.  On  every  hand  spread  out  favorite  places  for 
retreat  and  pleasure,  the  most  grateful  of  all,  in  which  life  suf 
fers  no  provocations  inconsistent  with  mental  revery,  and  where 
the  daily  necessities  harmonize  pleasantly  with  the  most  nutri 
tious  fancies.  Here  the  farmer  may  become  the  poet;  here  soli 
tude  may  yield  proper  occasion  for  thought  :  and  thought,  enli 
vened  by  the  picturesque,  may  rise  to  a  constant  enjoyment  of 
imagination.  There  is  no  scene  so  uniform  ns  to  induce  monot 
ony  or  weariness.  Green  fields  terminate  in  gentle  heights, 
heights  are  rendered  musical  with  companionable  voices,  by  the 
perpetual  murmur  of  rills  and  waterfalls.  The  eye  that  rests 
upon  the  rock  is  charmed  away  by  the  sunny  sJiadnu-x  that  chase 
each  other,  in  perpetual  sport,  over  valleys  and  sloping  lawns; 
and  the  heart  feels  that  here,  if  it  be  not  tin4  case,  it  should  l>e, 
that  the  spirit  of  man  may  be  as  divine  as  the  region  in  which 
he  finds  his  abode.  That  the  heart  is  not  here  sufficiently  sub 
dued  to  appreciate  justly  its  possessions  of  nature  —  that  the 
8  have  not  here  Mifticienlly  refined,  in  accordance  with  the 
sweetness,  simplicity,  beauty  and  sincerity  of  the  place  —  is  only 
due  to  the  freshness  of  the  scene  and  the  newness  of  society.  In 
proportion  ns  the  sense  awakens  to  what  it  enjoys  —  as  the 
means  of  life  increase,  and  as  prosperity  leads  to  leir-ure,  will 
be  the  improvement,  mentally  and  spiritually,  of  a  region,  which 
only  need*  to  be  justly  known,  in  all  its  charms  and  treasures. 
Time  will  bring  about  the  necessary  improvement.  As  it  is,  the 
16  is  one  where  the  heart,  already  matured,  and  the  tastes 
already  cultivated,  may  find  a  thousand  abodes,  in  which  life 
may  pass  away  as  a  long  and  grateful  sunny  day,  lapsing 
-\\i-etly  into  sleep  at  last,  in  a  conch  hung  with  purple,  and  un 
der  a  sky  of  blue,  draped  with  the  loveliest  hues  and  colors  of  a 
peaceful  sunset.'' 

Somehow,  \\e    gut    back    to    the   "  Kastcrn    Shore,"  which  we 
Lad  already  left  behind  us,  both  in  ship  and   story.     One  of  the 


179 

party  was  ar  v,  that  which    required 

':ade,  ail'!  •  -light   to 

pel  your  admiration  hy  its  own   obtnisivene: -s.     He    had   found 
•he  eye  where  seek  tliom.    Tims:  — 

.iniciit   depending  upon   moral,  really,  and  not  phy 
ki :  — 
"In  approaching  I  tern  Shore*  of  Virginia,"  said  lie, 

from  'Old  Point'  across  the  bay,  you  find  yourself  gli 
ding  toward  Mich  -  licacy,  and  quiet  beauty,  aa 
always  commend  then:  which  are  studious  of  de 
tail.  To  value  the  heautiful,  apart  from  the  suhlime,  requires 
the  nicely  discriminating  v\  ;  pass,  in  rapid  sn 

.    from    headland    to    harhor.  —  Gentle    promontories    shout 

to  welcome  you,  crowded  with   foliage,  and   affording  pro- 

tters,  and  the  most  pleasant  recess's  for  timid 

nynijihs.      You   almost   look    to   >re    the   naiads  darting  through 

A  aters,  in    fond    pursuit,  \\ith    shouts   and    laughter. 

1  hy  the  headlands,  which   have   heen  nio>tl\- 

njih.  •  11    >andy    liolh-  here    into    so 

many  lakelets,  whoM    little   billows  just  suffice  to  break  pleas 
antly   the   mo  :'  their    glas<y   surface.      These   hays   are 
out  from   the  shore,  scooped  into  it,  rather,  in  the  half- 
iii,  leaving  to   each  a  sandy  margin,  and  a  hard  heach, 
upon  which    \  ••ntleman's  yacht,  or  the  fisherman's 
drawn  up,  while  the  children  of'l.oth  are  rollicking  together, 
rolling  out  among  the  rollers  of  the  deep.      Peace  and 

MI    to    he    the    guardian    genii    of    tl  ;ded 

phu  :    contemplation  are  natural   occupations;    one 

that  th.-  ;  •  them>.dves  madly  and 

lally  —  that  t ''  i  and  emph-yed  only  under 

the    .  -and  that  it  '  .1    to 

fact  the  lietio'  n  Age." 

••  Y»:i  •hon] 

n    hardly    CM-  h    fancies,    beholding    such    a 

n,  though   along  the  Atlantic 
ntigtious  to  great    marts   of  civilixation,  is  qui1 
profound   na    I  rges  of  our  own  Apalachian  mount 

aina." 


180  SOUTHWARD  no! 

"Yes,  indeed  ;  and  the  proof  may  be  found  in  the  character 
and  manners  of  the  people  of  the  '  Eastern  Shore.'  Thesn 
have  scarcely  undergone  any  vital  change  in  the  last  hundred 
years.  They  will  tell  you  that  here  you  find  the  best  speci- 
Diens  of  the  old  Virginian  :  one  of  the  '  Lions'  of  the  '  Eastern 
shore'  by  the  way,  is  an  ancient  vault,  to  which  I  was  conduct 
ed  with  considerable  interest.  It  lies  upon  an  ancient  farmstead, 
looking  out  upon  tbe  '  bay,'  and  occupies  the  centre  of  an  did 
iield,  of  which,  sheltered  by  some  old  trees,  it  is  the  only  prom 
inent  object.  It  belonged  to  a  member  of  the  Custis  family,  a 
branch  of  the  same  stock  with  which  Washington  intermarried. 
Its  curious  feature  is  to  be  found  in  its  inscription.  The  vault, 
which  is  now  in  a  state  of  dilapidation,  is  of  white  marble,  made 
in  London  and  curiously  carved.  Old  Oustis,  the  incumbent, 
was  a  queer  old  codger,  and  rather  hard  upon  the  fair  sex,  if  wo 
may  judge  by  his  epitaph,  which  runs  literally  as  follows  : — 

"  Under  this  inarole  tomli  lies  ihr  body  of  the 

HON.  JOHN  CUSTIS,  ESQ., 

of  the  City  of  Williamiburg  ;m<l  J'arish  of  Burton;  formerly  of  ITungar's  Par- 
Hi,  on  tin-  Ivistern  shore  of  Virginia,  ;UM!  County  of  Northampton  :  aged  71 
years.  ,i>nl  iji't  firr,i  but,  seven  years,  which  was  the  space  of  time  h*  kept  A  BACH- 
tt.ou's  HOMK  ;i!  Arlington,  on  the  KaMem  shore  of  Virginia. 

This  inscription,  we  are  told  by  another,  on  the  opposite  side, 
"was  put  on  the  tomb  by  his  own  positive,  orders."  The  gist 
of  it,  as  the  ladies  will  painfully  perceive,  consists  in  the  line 
we  have  italicised  ;  the  force  of  which  will  be  better  felt  and 
understood  from  the  additional  fact,  which  does  not  appear,  that 
this  bachelor,  who  ///W  only  in  his  bachelor  condition,  in/.*  «r- 
ItHtlhj  iniu'rinl  tlircc  linx'.s.  His  experience,  if  we  arc  to  believe 
his  epitaph,  was  greatly  adverse  to  the  idea  of  any  happiness  in 
the  marriage  state;  yet  how  strange  that  he  should  have  ven 
tured  thrice  upon  it  !  'Die  natural  conclusion  is  that  the  Hon. 
•  Ii'lm  Custis  was  a  singularly  just  and  conscientious  man,  who, 
unwilling  to  do  the  sex  any  wrong  by  a  premature  judgment, 
gave  them  a  full  and  fair  trial,  at  the  expense  of  his  own  happi- 
.  and  pronounced  judgment  only  after  repeated  experiments. 
Tradition  has  preserved  some  anecdotes  of  the  sort  of  experience 
which  he  enjoyed  in  the  marriage  state,  one  of  which  I  will  re 
late.  It  appears  that  he  was  driving  in  his  ancient  coach  toward 


!.    FELICITY.  181 

Capo  Charles    A-itli  ••in-  of  liis  wiv.-s  —  and,  to  do  him  jr 

must  a  — me  tl.     reader  that,  unlike  our  mmlrni  Brighamites,  he 

had  hut  one  at      time.     A  matrimonial  disrusH..n  ei; 

the    pair,   whir       warmed    a>   they    proceeded.       Tin-    lord    grew 

angry,  the  huh    vociferous. 

"It  was  the  'iamond."  said  one — and  "  I  insist,"  quoth  tlie 
otlier,  "that  it  *  is  the  club." 

•  'i    u  will  dri   e  me  mad  !"   cried  John  Custis. 

"I  should  call  that  admirable  driving?"   retorted  the  wife. 

"By  !"    i  e  e.vcl.-iimed,  ••  if  you    -ay  another  word    I  will 

drive    down   into    (he    >ea  !"      They    \\eie    even   then    upon    the 

beach! 

•'Another  \vrft!"  screamed  the  lady.  "Drive  where  y»u 
please,"  site  added — "into  the  sea  —  I  can  go  as  deep  as  you 
dare  go  any  day  !" 

lie  became  t'uri(  us,  took  her  at  her  word,  and  drove 
and  chariot  into  th--  ocean.      They  began  to  swim.      He  held  in, 
looked  into  her  t'acv,  and  she — laughed  in  his. 

"  Wliy  do  you  s'mp  .'"  she  demanded,  cxultingly —  n«>t  .1  whit 
alarmed. 

"You  are  a  devJ  !"  he  exclaimed   flinging  the   h< 
and  making  for  the  shore  with  all  expedition. 

••  I'ooli  !     pooh  !"   laughed    his   tormentor.      "Learn   from   this 
that  there  i.s  no  pla.c  where  you  dare  to  go,  where  I  dare  not 
•  inpany  you." 

•  Kven  to  li — !"  he  groaned. 

"  rj'lie  only  cxi-ejJion,"  >he  answered  with  a  chuckle — "  there 
my  dear,  I  h  :;e  had  conrjuered.  He  never  <: 

in  at  C'.-ipe   ( 'harle-  .luaiu,  but   groaned  with   the   recollectii 

\  en  year-  bachelor-life  at   Arlii., 

When  this  little  i:ariation  had  ended,  an  intelligent  German 
.-if  the  party,  from  wh<  features  ami  silent  timgr.. 

li;ul  expected  nothing,  now  pleasantly  surpri.-ed  u>  by  vi>hintrcr- 
a    h'gend    of  liis   own    country — a   dome>tic  legend    of  dark 
and   gloomy  character.      AY  nr  gratiiication  at    the 

•tiler,  drew    our   chairs   into   the    circle,  lighted    f:e>h    cigars,  and 

lied  to  the  following  tale,  which,  a>  if  parodyintr  the  tit 
I  pn*vi"ii>  itOiy,  he  called  — 


sot  no! 


THE  BRIDE  OF  HATE:  OR,  THE  PASSAGE  OF  A  NIGHT. 

"  Thou  and  I  long  since  are  twain  ; 
N'ni  think  me  so  unwary  or  accu; - 
To  l>riii£  my  feet  a-ain  into  the  snare 
W!  '  !.ave  heen  cauirht;   I  know  thy  trains, 

Though  dearly  to  my  cost  ;   thy  pins  mid  toils; 
Thy  fair  enchanted  cup,  and  warbling  charms, 
No  more  on  me  have  power;   their  force  is  nulled; 
So  much  of  adder's  wisdom  I  have  learned, 
To  fence  my  ear  against  thy  sm.-eries." — $ct,/i*u>i  Again 


AT  length  I  was  permitted  to  lioliold  my  benefactress.  Tlio 
isenger  who  brought  my  quarterly  remittance  was  the  bearer 
of  a  letter,  the  first  which  had  ever  heen  addressed  hy  her  to 
myself,  in  which  this  grateful  permission  was  accorded.  I  rend 
and  reread  it  a  thousand  times.  My  first  emotions  were  those 
»f  pleasure  —  a  pleasure  enhanced  hy  the  hope  of  satisfying  a 
curiosity,  which,  awakened  in  my  earliest  hoyhood,  had  never 
yet  been  gratified.  Why  had  I  been  so  kindly  treated,  so  well 
provided  for,  so  affectionately  considered,  in  all  the  changes  of 
my  brief  e\i>tence,  my  sickness  and  my  health,  by  a  lady  of 
siu-li  high  condition  (  Why,  again,  should  she,  whose  care  and 
Consideration  had  been  so  unvarying  and  decided,  have  shown 
so  little  desire  to  behold  the  object  of  her  bounty?  Years  had 
elapsed  since  I  had  become  her  charge; — years,  to  me,  of  con 
tinned  satisfaction  —  if  one  small  matter  be  excepted.  There 
was  one  alloy  to  my  enjoyments,  which,  in  its  most  rapturous 
moments,  my  boyhood  did  not  cease  to  feel.  It  was  the  mystery 
which  overhung  my  origin.  Who  am  I  ?  was  the  question,  not 
so  natural  to  the  boy,  yet  natural  enough  to  the  sensitive  and 
thoughtful.  1  wa.s  both  sen>itive  and  thoughtful;  and  my  boy 
i>h  ;i»oci;ites,  contrived  on  this  very  subject,  to  keep  me  so. 
Their  inquiries  disordered  me  ;  their  surprise  at  my  ignorance 
alarmed  me;  their  occasional  doubts  gave  me  pain,  and  the  sus 
picions  of  their  minds  readily  passed  into  my  own.  '  Who  am 
1  '.'  was  the  perpetual  inquiry  which  my  mind  was  making  of 
itself.  I  could  address  it  nowhere  el.->e.  .M  \  tutor,  with  whom 
I  al.M>  lodged,  declared  his  igiioiance;  and  1  believed  him.  lio 


TIM-:   STOUTHPUL   M  lw-, 

fra-  '  i    man.  '  md   himself  hetraved  too  great 

an  interest  in  the  n..t   to   have  spoken  sincerely.     II.- 

my  disquiet,  and  endeavored   to  allay  it  ;    and  the  endeavor 
1  to  the  bur<!'  it   sufficiently  declared  his  equal  ina 

bility    and    de-ire.      Hi-    anxiety,   though    unequal    to,  was    not 
unlike,  my  o\vn.      I    know  not  if  his  conjectures  led  him  to  like 
infl    with   my-elf.      I   only  know  that  mine  were  suffi- 
v  painful  to  extort  my  Tears  and  tremors. 

Vainly,  at   each    quarterly  return   of  the  agent   of  the  baron- 

•iiil    I  endeavor,  by  question  and  in.-innation,  to  gather  from 

him    some   clue  to  the    facts  of  which  I    -night  to  be   posse- 

!!•    had    lieen  the    person  who    ln-ought  me  to  the  school  —  who 

mtract  for   my  education    and    support  with    my  tu- 

;  who  alon»\  through    e.-;  period  of  my  life 

i,  had  been  the  medium  for  CODVe^Dg   the  benefactions 

lend,      To    whom,   then,   c-ould    I    so    naturally   apply? 

nlil  I  hope  to  obtain    better   information  /  ,.  ),,. 

yi     '       ited    n.e    with    marked    aiVection.      I    can   remen 

took  me  upon   his  knee. 

kindly  he  '    me,  what   ailectionate  words  he   poured 

.  the   tenderness  of  his 

I  advanced    i:  id    his  attentions  alter, 

Ji  they  attuned  diiVerent  Upects.       1'  \'ed, 

though    not  h-  .      If  he  :  brought  me  toys, 

Y  he  no  longer  took  me  on    his   knee,  he 
red  with  me  long,  and  he  hour  that  eom- 

manded    his   departure.      T!  I  K)  —  BO   I   fan- 

—  in  what  he  said,  did,  Rl  i  the  fondn.-,- 

lf  who  had  known  me  with  a  tender  interest  fr-un  the  begin- 
B  M!>,  perhaps,  had    dandled    me  in  infanrv  ;    he  ha<! 

been    my    folliiwi-r.  my  attendant.      Hut    why    linger    on    CO1 
tun-  M  Nations    ran  wild,  as    I    tlnu: 

over   the  cireumstam-es  of  my  condition,  and    painfully  n 
:':er  hour,  the  !-irth. 

I'runo,  how-.  -Id  obtain  nothin_'.      When 

tioned,    !..  [i  1    simplicitv    which,    even    to    my 

-I    wholly    inconsistent  with    his.      1 

knew  that    he  j  I   willing  to  consider 

him  a  churl.      My  natural.      He  knew  something 


184  SOUTHWARD  no! 

He  could  tell  me  much.  Could  he  not  tell  me  all,  and  where 
could  be  the  motive  for  concealment  ?  The  answer  to  this  ques 
tion  inevitably  overwhelmed  me  for  a  time,  until  the  elasticity 
of  the  youthful  heart  could  disencumber  itself  from  the  despond 
ing  tendency  of  a  premature  activity  of  thought.  The  only 
motive  of  concealment  must  be  guilt.  I  was  the  child  of  sin  — 
I  was  the  foredoomed  of  suffering.  My  present  anxieties  --;i\ e 
a  gravity  and  intensity  of  expression  to  my  features  which  did 
not  become  one  so  youthful.  I  felt  this:  I  felt  the  seeming  un- 
naturalness  of  my  looks  and  carriage;  but  how  could  I  rel 
myself?  I  felt  the  pain  of  thought  —  thought  unsatisfied  —  and 
could  already  imagine  how  natural  was  the  doom  which  visited 
the  sins  of  the  father  to  the  third  and  fourth  generation. 

When  I  failed  to  extort  from  the  cunning  of  Bruno  the  secret 
which  I  was  persuaued  he  yet  possessed,  1  turned  naturally  to 
the  letter  of  my  benefactress.  I  read  and  reread  it,  each  time 
with  the  hope  of  making  some  discoveries  —  of  finding  some 
slight  clue  to  the  truth  —  which  might  relieve  my  anxiety.  An 
ambiguous  sentence,  the  latent  signification  of  a  passage  (and 
how  many  of  these  did  my  desire  enable  me  to  discover  in  a 
billet  of  twenty  lines  ?)  awakened  my  hopes  and  caused  my 
heart  to  bound  with  double  pulsation,  lint  when  I  had  gone 
through  it  again  and  again,  until  my  head  ached,  and  my  senses 
seemed  to  swim,  1  was  compelled  to  acknowledge  to  myself  that 
there  was  nothing  in  the  epistle  that  1  had  not  readily  compre 
hended  at  the  first.  It  simply  expressed  the  writer's  gratifica 
tion  at  the  improvement  and  good  conduct  of  the  youth  whom 
she  had  thought  proper  to  educate  and  provide  for,  until  man- 
in»iiil  should  bring  around  the  period  of  independence;  and 
expressed  —  though  without  emphasis  (and  how  earnestly  did  I 
l-iok  for  this  quality  in  every  word,  syllable  and  point!)  —  a 
very  natural  desire,  to  remark,  with  her  own  eyes,  the  personal 
deportment  and  carriage  of  her  protege  —  subjects  which  she 
seemed  to  regard  as  equally  important  with  my  intellectual  im 
provement,  and  of  which  neither  my  letters  nor  my  exercises  — 
which  were  duly  transmitted  to  her  by  my  tutor  —  could  give  her 
much,  if  any,  satisfaction.  Failing  to  find  any  occult  significa 
tion  in  the  language,  1  next  addressed  my  scrutiny  to  the  style 
and  manner  of  the  letter — the  handwriting,  the  air,  the  round 


MYSTKHY    AM)    UorilT.  185 


•Dually  of  letters  and  peri"  li        >o<>n,  where  tlio  1: 

And  anxieties  are  awakened,  will   tin-  boy  learn  to  think,  exam 
ine,  and  become  analytical  !      To  trace  the  mind  of  the  writ. 
his  penmanship  is  a  frequent  employment  with  the  idly  curi- 
hut  a  deep  iniere>t  led   me  to  the  same  63  The  sty1 

the  composition  was  clear  and    strong,  hut   it  struck  me  as  ignite 
too   cold    lor   the    henevolent    tenor   which    the    note   conve 
Why  should   one   speak   the  language  of  reserve  whose   «!• 
are   the  vi-ry  perfection  of  generosity?      Why  should    the    '• 
he  frigid  where  the  sentiments  are  as  soft  as  summer  and    - 

fcl  nwn  hird-music  .'     There  was,  to  my  mind,  some   singular 
contradiction    in   this.       I   could  very  well  understand    how  one, 
thiing,  or   ahout  to   do,  a  benevolent   or  goner««u*   action,  should 
speak  of  it  as  slightly  and  indifferently  as  possibh  —  nay,  -liquid 
avoid  to  speak  of  it  at  all,  if  to  avoid  it  he  within  the  natu; 
the    occasion;  —  but   this   did    not  apply  to  the  character  ot 
epi>t!e    I    examined.      The    writer   spoke    freely  of   her  friendly 
purposes;   but  her  language  to  the  recipient  was  odd  and  I'. 
in;:.      If  she  had   said    nothing  of   what  she   had    done   and 

,'ated,  and    had    spoken   to   me   in   more   elaborate    tones,   I 
should    have    been  better  satisfied.      But  there  wa>  not  an  unne- 

i\  word  in  the  whole  epistle  —  not  one  which  I  could  fancy 
put  in  at  the  moment  when  the  current  of  feeling,  being  at  its 
hei-ht,  forbade  the  reserve  ..f  prudence,  or  the  cautious  COD 

I   of  deliberate   and    calculating    purp»>si->.      'I'! 
evidently  considerable   pains  taken  —  so   my  youthful  judgment 
it,ft.nvd—  -in  the  re.served    language    ;md    manner  of  this  h" 
and  why   should   my  benefactress,  m«>\e.!  only  in  what   tdio   had 
dmie    bv    a    hiirli    hut    ordinary    .sentiment    of  charity,  strive    to 
terself  in  such  lai:L  Thi.s   <|ii< 

into    newer    intiicacies,  fium  which.   1  trcel\'    add,  I 

did  not  readily  extricate  my>elf.      The  penman>hip  of  the  \\ 
did    not    call    f«.r  a  le.-s  earnest    examination    than    the    lang:. 
whleh  she  employed.      It  \\a>    evidently  feminine    in  its    charac 
ter,  but    how  ma>culine  in  its  tone.      The   utte. 
inent  was  a  deiicienc\',  which    .struck  me  as  forming  a  Mirpi 

,re    in    the    handwriting  of   it  lady.      She    u>ed    capital- 
btantly  in  beginnii  tf  \\-ll  u  BOntenees;    '  ttl  ' 

tals  exhibited  the  cold  Gothic  aspects  "f  the  Roman,  rather  thai 


186  in  WARD  no 


the  lively  ornamented  outlines  of  the  Italian  letters.  The  T  of 
her  signature,  for  example,  was  a  simple  perpendicular  stroke 
carried  much  below  the  line,  with  a  thick  heavy  cap  upon  it, 
having  a  dip  at  each  end  almost  as  great  as  that  of  an  umbrella. 
The  letters  were  remarkably  clear,  but  how  irregular !  They 
MM'ined  to  have  been  written  under  a  determination  to  write, 
even  against  desire  and  will  —  dashed  spasmodically  down  upon 
the  paper  not  coherent,  and  leaving  wide  gaps  between  the  sev 
eral  words,  into  which  an  ingenious  hand  might  readily  have 
introduced  other  words,  such,  as  I  fondly  conjectured,  might 
have  given  to  the  composition  that  friendly  warmth  and  interest 
in  my  fate,  which  it  seemed  to  me  it  needed  more  than  anything 
bi--ides.  My  grand  conclusion,  on  mushing  my  study,  was  this, 
that  the  writer  had  taken  some  pains  to  write  indiiVerently  ;  that 
the  studied  coldness  of  the  letter  was  meant  to  conceal  a  very 
active  warmth  and  feeling  in  the  writer;  and  (though  I  may  not 
he  able  to  define  the  sources  of  this  conjecture  so  well  as  the 
rest)  that  this  feeling,  whatever  might  be  its  character,  was  not 
such  as  could  compel  the  admiration  or  secure  the  sympathy  of 
mine.  This  conclusion  may  seem  strange  enough,  when  it  is 
recollected  that  the  baroness  was  my  benefactress,  who  had 
always  carefully  anticipated  my  wishes;  provided  for  my 
wants;  afforded  me  the  best  education  which  the  condition  of 
the  palatinate  afforded  ;  and,  in  all  respects,  had  done,  through 
charity,  those  kindly  deeds  which  could  not  have  been  exacted 
by  justice.  The  next  moment  1  reproached  myself  for  ingrati 
tude —  I  prayed  for  better  thoughts  and  more  becoming  feel- 
lugs —  Imt  my  prayer  was  not  vouchsafed  me.  The  conclusion 
which  1  have  already  declared  had  taken  a  rooted  possession  of 

my  mind,  and  1  commenced  my  journey  to  the  castle  of  T 

with  a  mixed  feeling  of  equal  awe,  anxiety,  and  expectation. 


I  \M\Y  remarked  some  alteration  in  the  looks  and  bearing 
of  my  companion,  Hruno,  which  also  surprised  me  and  awakened 
:uy  curio.'-jtv.  Ilithertu,  be  had  ah\  wl  a  person  of  lit- 

,  leteusioii,  having  lew  objects,  and  those  of  an  humble  cl 
a  mere  yeoman  ;    a  good    retainer,  in   which   capacity  he   served 


BRUNO.  1^ 

at  T ca>tle  ;    nn.deM  in    his  d.-poi  tment,  without   arrogance 

v  kin.l  ;   ami,  in   all  respects,  a  DAgfe      I 

!  mean   to   say  that   ho  now  assumed   the  appearance  of 

uh«.  hail  :  :   hut  lie  cei tainly  was  no  longer  tho 

(juiet,    Mib.iued   and    somewhat    melancholy   man    whom    1    had 

ironl  to  find  him.     A  certain  boyish   light 
..inner  an  of  speech  distinguished   him  as  we  rod  p. 

.lu.r;  —  and,  though    these  qualities  might  not  he  altogether 
ut  with  what   is   becoming  in  a  man  of  forty,  yet  were 
they,  at    the    same    time,  very  far   from    corresponding  \\ith    t!:e 
1   characteristics  which   he   had   borne  in  our  previous  inti 
jr.      I'ntil  now  I  should  have  called   him  a  null  ])••• 

<i,  benevolent    feelings;    rather  grave    ana    sombre. 

in  hi-  _  rther,  having   no   q;ial:'  fom- 

mend   him  to  a  higher  destination   than   that  which   lie   filled   in 

tin-  .  the  baron  N    if,  he  suddenly  became  the  man 

ere    mirthful,  his   voice   musical,  his   opin- 

playful    ana   <-.:"  witty;    and,  not  unfre<[iient!y,  he  would 

•    int.,    lir  _%  that  sounded   unpleasantly  in 

iini  e   I  could  neither  OMIJ, ..•-.«  up  cause  of  merriment  in 

••wn   mind,  nor  conjecture    the   source.    f«»r  so  much  of  it  in 

N«»r  did    this  conduct   seem  the  result  ot   «Lrple  natural 

-the   plav  of    health  in   an   exercise  which   was   ^'"pe- 

;is  which  lie  beneath  the  MU  face  only,  and  Qt*, 

dient  to  the  summons  of  any  cheerful  wayfarer,  who,  having  no 

••ptible  of  the  mo>t  ordinary  pleasures.      Tbnv  was 

an  air  ot  \ultation  in  1  I  triumphant  o'n.-ciou..- 

inner,  which    lie  vainly  strove  to   hide,  and    in  the 

bn-ine-s   «,t'   which    I    ([iiickly  inferred,  from    his    frequent    smile 

and  I    m\  >elf   had   no   little   int. 

v  and   .spirit,  he  would   sud 

denly  control    hims.df.  rela;  by  an   eil'ort,  into   his 

ancient    gravity,  and    po»i!»ly    mutter    a    few   clumsy   words    of 

;  ntain  ln!iise!f  <lid  not   lonu'   c«in- 

•he  end    »f  our  journey,  he   had 

fulix  bimself   to  tl..-  mood  which    pos.s, 

•  lit. 

10  kno\\h-dg(i  of  ('  I     ,  I    endeavore  !    by    H 

-tain  IVom  him  as  inuci; 


irmatioL 


188  SOUTHWARD    HO! 

as  possible  in  respect  to  it  and  the  lady  thereof.  H.  seemed  to 
urprised  at  the  avowal  of  my  ignorance  on  the  su  ject  of  the 
castle,  and  surprised  me  even  more  by  expressing  his  render  at 
the  fact;  concluding  by  assuring  me  that  I  was  borr  in  it  —  at 
least  he  had  been  told  so.  His  mention  of  my  place  of  birth 
necessarily  provoked  an  eager  renewal  of  my  old  inq  iries.  but 
to  these  I  obtained  no  satisfactory  answers.  Enough,  *io\\  • 

shown  me  by  what  he  said,  and  still  more  by  urliat  ho 
looked,  that  he  knew  much  more  than  he  was  willing,  or  per 
mitted,  to  reveal.  His  reserve  increased  the  mystery;  for  if 
any  of  my  acquaintance  had  ever  convinced  me  of  their  unequiv 
ocal  regard,  it  was  my  old  friend  Bruno.  That  he  should  know, 
yet  withhold,  the  secret,  the  desire  for  which  was  making  my 
check  paler  every  day,  and  filling  my  heart  with  the  gloom  that 
seldom  aillicts  the  young,  argued,  to  my  understanding,  a  pain 
ful  history,  which,  perhaps,  when  heard,  I  should  wish  for  ever 
buried  in  oblivion.  When  1  inquired  after  my  benefactress,  as 
I  had  frequently  done  before,  his  brow  became  clouded,  and  it 
"iily  at  such  moments  that  he  seemed  to  part  easily  with 
that  gayety  of  manner  which  had  striven  to  cheer  our  tedious 
journey.  Stern  glances  shot  from,  beneath  his  bushy  gray  eye 
brows,  and  his  lips  became  compressed,  as  closely  as  if  s«>ric 
resolute  purpose  of  hostility  was  gathering  in  his  mind. 

"It   seems   t«>   me,  P>run<>,  that   you  love  me  no  longer.     Yci 
will  not  answer  my  questions  —  questions  which   seriously  afl'ec* 
my  happiness  —  and  yet    it    is   clear   to    me   that  you  can  do  so 
Why  should    there   lie  any  mystery  in  the  cas» 
of  one  BO  poor,  so  humble,  such  a  dependant  as  myself?" 

6   you.  Herman!      Do   1    not  love  you  !"  he  exclaimed 
5in<l   i  could    M-U.   a   big   tear  gathering  within  his  eye,  as  he  re 
in  reproachful  accents  —  "Ah,  my  son,  you  know  not  how 
much  I  love  you;  you  know  not  now  —  perhaps  you  will  shortly 
know  —  and  when  yon  do,  you    will   see  that  what  I  have  with- 
lYoni   you  '-ly  withheld.      There    is   a    season    given 

for  truth,  Herman,  ami  if  Bruno  forbears  the  truth  in  your  ears, 
if  is  "i:lv  that  he  mav  wait  for  a  M-asou." 

"But  why  should  you  not  tell  me   of  the   baroness?     I  should 
like  to  f,.nn  some  idea  of,  and  to  love  her,  before  I  see  her." 

"Then  you  do  not  love  her  .'"  he  demanded  with'somc  quick 


:    and  I  could  perceive    n    -mile   irleain  nut  upnn  his  pnnnto 
nance,    in    wliicli    T    fancied    there   was    even  i    of 

tlOD,      HU   (pie>tioii    confuted   mo  —  It 

\\hich  he  certainly  never  intended.    Could  it  le  po^iMn 

that  I  did  not   h>ve   my  henefactress  —  o;.e   to  whom    I 

much — to  whom,  indeed.  I  owed  everything  1     I  Mu.»hed,  hesi- 

':.  staniniored.  and,  l»cl'"n-  I  cmil.l  n-ji!y.  lie  .".ir.-iin  Bpoke,and 
ij.ated  tlie  feel-le  eXCH86  u'liirli   I   \v:i>  ]>n>].ar:' 

•    ln»\v    sh«mld    you    lo.  ::ine(l,    in    tones 

rail:,-.  Mlnijuy    than     c-oiiversati-.n.      "ll..\v.    indeed!       It 

ii  wnndfi-iiil,  indeed,  if  y«»u  did." 

he  arre.-ted  hinisidi'  in  the  manner  of  one  who  think<  hrs 
has    said    t«».»   inuch.      'I'lu-.    true    fetdin^  with  which    In-    .-}><' 

ne   of  liis  utterance   than  from  wh.it 

id.      The  irOlda,  however,  mijrht  ha\-e   he<-n  made  t-i  a. 
iniR-h  more  innocently  than  the  emphasis  permitted  me  to  apply 

thlMll. 

••  How  !  what  mean  you.  l>runo  '."   I  demanded,  with  an  a-t«'H 

ishment  whirh    \\ as   sufficiently  oliv5ou-«.      H«'   endeavored    to 

i  with  the  adroitness  of  a  politician, 
uld  ynii  he  expected  to  love  a  per.-on  whom  yon  hail 
,.n  —  whom    von   do   not  know  —  of  whom,  indeed. 
know  noth 

I 
demand  gratitude,  hut    seldom  awaken  love,  un- 

i.v  othei  !  favors,  I 

little    value    mde»    the   donor   smiles    uhile    h- 

it'ectioii    and    regard.      The 

ohject  in  lie: 
unt  \-  and  sho  , 
C6rn  \\hich  .-he  ft-lt  in  your  •  id  the  he: 

Without    tin- 
;    and  the  frrlinjr  which  j        iiavc 

van!;  liuiiofa  r,  indeed,  mi-!  con- 

.   Dimple  >en-e  of  dl 

.   '       How  should  it  he  the   duty  of  ti  "ss   to    pn>- 

foi  my  support  and  educati 
"Nay,  I  say  not  that  such  is  the  case.      I  simply 


SOUTHWARD    110  ; 

of  the  causes  of  that  favor  which  men  are  very  apt,  when  tley 
name,  to  confound  with  benevolence." 

"But  why  should  you  speak  as  if  it  were  doubtful  that  the 
baroness  really  desires  to  secure  my  affection  ?  Do  you  know, 
Bruno,  that  she  does  not  ?" 

"  He  or  she  who  aspires  to  secure  the  affection  of  another  will 
scarcely  succeed  by  the  mere  act  of  giving  in   chnrity.     The 
gift    must    be    accompanied    by   other  acts,  other 
which   shall  exhibit  the  attachment  which  the  giver  <le>ir. 
awaken.     It  must  be  shown  that  there  is  a  pleasure  felt  in  the 
benevolence,  that  the  heart  which  bestows  enjoys  a  kindred  sat 
isfaction  with  that  which  receives.     As  for  any  knowledge  on 
the  subject  of  the  feelings  of  the  baroness,  I  pretend  none.     I 
but   state  a   general  truth  when   I   say,  that,  if  her  object  had 
been  to  make  you  love  her,  she  should  have  carried  her 
in  person,  shown  herself  frequently  to  you,  counselled  you  from 
her  own  lips,  exhorted  your  industry  and  diligence,  prompted 
your  ambition,  cheered  your  labors,  and  encouraged  all  your 
honorable  desires." 

"Ah,  if  she  had  done  this,  Bruno  ?" 

"  Doubtless,  you  would  then  have  loved  her,  and  then  she 
would  have  been — " 

He  paused  abruptly  ;  the  same  stern  expression  of  counte 
nance  denoted  the  suppression  of  a  sentiment,  such  as  more  than 
once  before,  during  our  dialogue,  had  seemed  to  fill  hi.s  mind  with 
bitterness.  I  eagerly  demanded  of  him  the  conclusion  of  the  sen 
tence,  and,  with  a  smile  which  was  half  a  sneer,  he  replied:  — 

"Then  she  would  have  been  —  secure  of  your  love." 

I  smiled  also,  and,  perhaps,  a  like  sarcastic  sneer  passed  over 
my  own  lips,  as  he  came  to  this  lame  and  impotent  conclusion. 

"Bruno,  you  deceive  me,  and  possibly  wrong  my  benefac 
tress.  You  know  more  than  you  will  tell  me.  There  is  some 
strange  mystery  in  this  business — " 

"  Which  I  believe,  Herman,  but — " 

""Which  you  know,  Bruno." 

"  IVrhap.s  so  ;  but  let  me  ask  yon,  Herman,  my  dear  Herman, 
do  you  believe  me  to  be  your  friend  ?" 

"  I  do." 
*  That  I  have  ever  shown  you  kindness,  watched  over  you. 


191 

COlin-  u,  guided    you.  pi  all,   in    §1 

: 

I  -'link,    i    know,  that  you 

have  been  ;ill  thi.s  t.>  inc.     Y'>u   i  .  rforrnan 

-hich,  if  your  thinking  he  right,  tho   hen.-\  olence  of  the 
imprudently  omitted/' 

.    Herman.      1-  then     a     ':  .-.      Believe 

that    In-    who  D   friendly    and   faithful    hitherto,   without 

i,  without   exception,  without    g"ing   hark,  and   without 

.  will    still   ln»    true,  faithful,  and    affectionate. 

Ig  that  I  might  say,  but  not  wisely,  not  henefi- 

cially  t'>r  \  i'ii,  and  the:  it.      But    the    time 

will  roine.  I  think  it  will  come  \,  and  all  my  knowh 

shall  then  i>e  yu.  patient  and  learn   the   first 

•i  nf  youth   ~learD  '••  \\ait!      By  learning   to  wait,  you 

learn  to  endure,  and  in  learning  ?<»  endure,  you  learn  one  of  the 

prin.  -fcoi/.jiu-sr.   I  speak  to  you  the  lesson  of  experience, 

'.  ii  experience.      Never    did 
a   n:  :'  endurance   than    myself.      I    have 

my  nature,  stilled  the   pa.ssions  of  my  heart,  kept  dowN 
lea   of   my    soul    which,  as   they  would   have  vainly 
:;y    release,    \\civ     premature  ;     and,    after    tw- 
\ear->  nf  hnnda-v  1  am  at  length  free.      Your  visit  to  the  castle 
,  is  the  epoch  of  my  emancipation." 


11  VVIMJ  thus   spoken.  Bruno   hecame   suddenly  silent,  and  no 

•   that   I  could  make  could  induce  him  to  resunu-  the  cmivcr- 

ho\\-    liad    this    conversation    excited    mo  !  —  what 

•i  did  it  occasion  among  the  theutrhts  and   fan- 

••f   my  mind.      Where    had    he   ol  tained  the  power  to  q 

with  so  much    authority  |0  full  of  animation,  thought-   M 

far    l.-'yoml    hi-    M'eming   condition.'       ]\\  \\  ,-d    to   lilt 

Mini    expand    himself.       Hi-    eye    glittered    with    the    fire    of   an 

ke,  his  lip  (juivered  with    oijual  pride   and    en- 

thniasm.  and  his  form.    •  nd  tower  aloft  in  all  the 

majesty  of  a  tried  and  familiar  superiority.     The  i:  hicti 

rnwrappoil    my  own    f.  I  ;idden    to   envelop    tin* 


192  SOUTHWARD    110  ! 

man  also.  Ho  had  dropped  words  which  indicated  an  alliance 
of  cur  dotinies.  and  what  could  he  moan,  when,  at  the  '.dose  of 

this  speech,  lie  said,  that  my  visit  to  the  cattle  of  T as  the 

opoch  of  his  emancipation.  The  wc-rds  rang  in  my  ears  with  the 
imposing  solemnity  of  an  oracle;  hut,  though  I  felt,  in  vain  did 
I  :-t:ive  to  iind  something  in  them  beyond  their  solitary  import. 

y   increased  the    solemnity   and   anxiety   of  those   feelings 
which  oppressed  me  on  my  nearer  approach  to  the  gloomy  tow- 

of  T castle.     As  we  came  in   sight   of  them   1  could 

perceive  that  the  countenance  of  my  companion  assumed  an  ex- 

rion  of  anxiety  also.  A  dark  cloud,  slowly  gathering,  hung 
about  his  brows,  and  at  length  spread  over  and  seemed  to  settle 
permanently  upon  his  face.  He  now  seldom  spoke,  and  onlv  in 
answer  to  my  inquiries  and  in  -monosyllables.  Something  of 
this,  in  the  cast1  of  each  of  us,  may  Mav  been  derived  from  the 
sombre  and  gloomy  tone  of  everything  in  the  immediate  neigh 
borhood  of  this  castle.  The  country  was  sterile  in  the  la>t 
degree.  We  had  travelled  the  whole  day  and  had  scarcely  en 
countered  a  human  being.  But  few  cottages  skirted  the  cheer- 
and  little-trodden  pathway  over  which  we  came,  and  a 
general  stuntedness  of  vegetation  and  an  equally  general  pov 
erty  of  re>'>urce  in  all  respects,  fully  accounted  to  us  for,  and 
justified  the  absence  of,  inhabitants.  Bruno,  however,  informed 
me  that  the  country  on  the  other  side  of  the  lake  on  which  the 
castle  stood,  and  from  which  it  derived  its  resources,  was  as  fer 
tile  and  populous  as  this  was  the  reverse.  A  succession  of  little 
hills,  rugged  and  precipitous,  which  were  strewed  thickly  < 
our  pathway,  added  to  the  ditliculties  of  our  approach,  ami  the. 
cheerlessness  of  the  prospect.  The  castle  was  gray  with  year.- 
—  one  portion  of  it  entirely  dismantled  and  deserted  —  the  resi- 
•iuc  in  mendy  habitable  condition  —  the  whole  presenting  such 
a.  pile  as  would  be  esteemed  a  ruin  among  a  people  of  romau- 
He  temperament,  but  carefully  avoided  by  the  superstitious  as 
:•  cah-ulaled  for  the  wanderings  of  discontented  ghosts,  than 
n-  a  dwelling  for  the  living.  The  wall  which  was  meant  to  pro 
ject  it  from  inva>ion  on  the  side  we  came,  was  in  a  woi>c 
ff  dilapidation  than  even  the  deserted  portions  of  the  castle,  ami 
*'e  entered  the  enclosure  through  a  fissure,  and  over  the  over 
08  of  lime  and  stone  by  which  it  nad  been  origin/illy 


I»Y. 


filled.     Then-  w»-:.    •  "iim^s  tn  render  formal 

.     Within  the  I  had  an  np- 

tlic    pr 

1  •  •lati'-n  increased  the  f 

awe  with  which  tin-  mv.-tery  of  my  own  fate,  the  amhiuni 
and  manner  of  Kruno,  and  the  vapie  conjecture-,  I  had  formed  in 

-arily   lilled   my  mind  ; 

an«i   i  n  first  standing  in  tlie  presence  "f  the  har- 

t'ar   more   apprehension  than  gratitude  —  an   apprehen- 
si.ni        '  -rcditahle   t<»   my  manhood.  and  only  t"  he  excu-ed 

aii'l  ted  lor.  hy    the    secluded    and    unworldly   manner   in 

which  my  education  had  heen  conducted. 

The   baronesfl   met   me   with   a  smile,   and    such   a  smile!  —  I 

conld  not  comprehend   its  hinguajre.      It  wa<   clearly  not  that  of 

•ion;   it  did  not    signify  hatred  —  shall  I  say  that   it  was  the 

it   of  one   wl.  to   look    henevolence    while 

feelim:  scorn  ;   that   it  was  a  smile  of  distrust  and  hitterness,  the 

exprfssi-m  <>t'  a  feeling  which  seemed  to  find  the  task  of  receiving 

.ml   unpleasant   even  to  sutler  the  momentary 

;i-e   of  1:  ;md    art.      I    was   confused    and    stupefied. 

I  turn.'d  I'm-  explanation  to  Brnno,  who  had  accompanied  me  into 

the  ;  :   and  the  .  M  in  his  face  did  not  less  MI;-; 

me  than  that  in  the  face  of  the    harmless.      11  -  re  fixed 

upon    hers,  and    his    looks  wore  an  air  of  pride    and    exultation; 

not  dissimilar   to  that  which    I  have   alreadv  described   as  distin- 

«:m>hinp  them  while   iuir  dialogue  was   in   progress.      Then- 

ill    his   glance,  while   gaxin. 

.    which   pnx/h'd    me    the   more.       II.  m.w 

tnrneii  from  me  to  him. 

"  And  this  then  is  the  —  the  youth  —  the  -  "      She  j 

I  could  no  longer  misunderstand  t  ents.    They  v. 

ID  and  ai; 

"  Tl  i'.i-iim),  "  the  same,  my  lady,  ami    a 

mdile  \onth  yon  see  he  is;    well  worthy  of  your  patronage,  your 

The:'  'anntin^  ;isperit\-  in    his  tones  which   struck   me 

nainfully,  and    at  length    Minndated  me  to  utterance  and    acti"H. 
I  rushed  forward,  threw  myself  .-it  !  :<d,  while  I  poured 

forth  my  ino'licrent  ;K  !.  -nld 


194  SOOTHWARD    HO! 

have  seized  and  carried  her  hand  to  my  lips.  But  she  shrink 
back  with  an  impulse  if  possible  more  rapid  than  my  own,  her 
hands  uplifted,  the  palms  turned  upon  me  as  if  beckoning  me 
away,  her  head  averted,  and  her  whole  attitude  and  manner  that 
of  one  suffering  contact  with  the  thing  it  loathes. 

"  No,  no  !    None  of  this.    Take  him  away.     Take  him  away." 

I  rose  upon  my  feet  and  turned  to  Bruno.  His  form  was 
erect,  his  eye  was  full  of  a  stern  severity  as  he  gazed  upon  the 
baroness,  which  seemed  to  me  strangely  misplaced  when  I  con 
sidered  his  relative  position  with  the  noble  lady  to  whom  I  ow»»d 
so  much,  and,  in  respect  to  whom  it  would  seem  so  unaccountable, 
so  unnatural.  Bruno  paused  and  did  not  regard  me  as  I  apprr  ach 
ed  him.  His  eyes  were  only  fixed  upon  his  mistress.  She  re 
peated  her  injunction,  with  a  wild  and  strange  addition  :  — 

"  Have  you  not  had  enough  ?  Would  you  drive  me  ma\  f 
Away  with  him.  Away  !" 

"  Come  !"  he  exclaimed,  turning  to  me  slowly,  but  with  ai, 
eye  still  fixed  upon  the  baroness,  whose  face  was  averted  fron; 
us.  He  muttered  something  further  which  I  did  not  understand, 
and  we  were  about  to  depart,  he  frowning  as  if  with  indignation, 
and  I  trembling  with  equal  apprehension  and  surprise. 

"  Stay!"  she  exclaimed,  "where  would  you  take  him,  Bruno?" 

"  To  the  hall  below,  your  ladyship." 

"  Right,  see  to  his  wants.  His  chamber  is  in  the  northern 
turret." 

"  There  !"  was  the  abrupt  exclamation  of  Bruno. 

"  There  !  There  !"  was  all  the  reply  ;  a  reply  rather  shrieke  1 
than  spoken,  and  the  manner  of  which,  as  well  as  the  look  of 
Bruno,  when  he  beheld  it,  convinced  me  that  there  was  some 
thing  occult  and  mysterious  in  the  purport  of  her  command. 
Nothing  more,  however,  was  spoken  by  either  the  baroness  or 
himself,  and  we  left  the  piesence  in  silence  together. 


IV. 

WR  descended  to  the  salle  a  manger,  where  we  found  a  bouh 
tiful  repast  prepared.  }\u\  ncitner  of  us  seemud  disposed  to  eat. 
though  the  long  interval  of  abstinence  since  the  morning  meal, 
would,  at  another  time,  and  under  different  circumstances,  have 


TO    TTTE    TOWEIl. 

nsuroption  of 

tli  •  •,  .     I  remarked  mie  thmir  in  the  man- 

enl  of  the  feaftt  which  lishment.     There 

.;;ilar  taster  of  tin-  several  dNhes.  who  went  through  his 

i.rnno  invited  me   to  eat.      I  liad  heard  and  road  of 

tliis  officer  and   the  objects  of  tliis   precaution   in  tlio   history  of 

and    barbarous   centuries,   hut    that   he   should    he   thought 

in  a  modern  household  and  in  a  Christian  country 
a  subject  of  very  natural  wonder;    and  I  did  not  hesitate  t<> 

ach    to  my  companion  and   friend.     But  my  comment  onlj 

iiis  smile  ;    lie  did  n«.f  UHWOT  me,  hut  contented  himself  with 

ing  me  that  1   might  eat  in  safety.     He  even  enlarged  on 

the  excellence  of  some  of  the  dishes,  most  of  which  were  new  to 

me.      I  did  little  more  in  the  progress  of  the  repast   than  follov 

the   example  of  the    taster,   who,  his  office  over,  had   instantly 

retired,  hut  not  before  casting  a  glance,  as  I  fancied,  of  partieuhr 

meaning  toward    Bruno,  who   returned   it  with  one  similarly  sig 

nificant  !      I  observed  that  all  the  retainers  exhibited   a  singubr 

ree  of  deference  to  this   man,  that    hi-  -itici- 

pated,  and  his  commands  were  instantly  obeyed.      Yet  he  spoko 

to  them  rather  in  the  language  of  an  intimate  companion  than  a. 

master.      He  was  JOCOBC   ami    familiar,  made   inquiries  into  their 

lusive  concern-,  and    seemed    to  have  secured  their  atVec'' 
entirely.      It    was   not    long    before    I    discovered    that    this    was 
the    case.       From    the    .w///r    //    ni<uiLr>r,   as   neither  of   us   c 

it,  we  retired  after  a  brief  delay,  ami,  leaving  the  ca-tle 
emerged  hv  a  low  postern  into  an  open  court  which  had 
been  enclosed  and  covered,  but  of  the  enclosure  of  which  only 
one  lection  of  the  wall  remained,  connecting  the,  main  building 
with  a  sort  of  tower,  which  a<  I  afterward  found,  contained  the 
apartme;  -  d  me  by  the  harmless.  To  this  tower  Bruno 

now  conducted  me.     Crossing  the  court,  1  -mall  door 

at  tin-  f.ot  of  the  tower,  which  my  conductor  carefully  bolted 
behind  him.  We  then  a-eended  :i  narrow  and  decaying  flight 
of  Mep>,  which,  being  circular,  gradually  conducted  n-  to  an 
upper  chamber  of  greater  bei-lit  from  the  ground  than,  looking 
upward  from  hchiw,  1  ha<.  :,ied  it.  This  chamber 

nd    at    one    time    -ecmed,    indee 
have   been   verv  nunptUOIlftlj    t'urnislied.      There    was, 


190  SOUTHWARD    110  ! 

an  air  of  coldness  and  clamp  about  tlic  apartment  that  impressed 
i:ie  with  unpleasant  sensations.  But  a  single  window,  and  that 
a  small  one,  yielded  the  daylight  from  the  eastern  sky,  while 
two  small  narrow  doors,  that  appeared  to  have  been  shut  up  1'nr 
a  century  and  more,  occupied  opposite  sections  of  the  northern 
and  southern  walls.  The  little  aperture  at  the  head  of  tin- 
stairs  was  closed  by  a  falling  trap,  and  fastened  or  not  at  the 
pleasure  of  the  incumbent,  l>y  a  bolt  in  the  floor  above.  A 
massive  1  edstead,  of  carved  columns  and  antique  pattern,  stood 
almo.xt  beside  the  trap,  making  flight  easy  by  that  means  in  the 
event  of  such  a  proceeding  seeming  desirable.  A  venerable 
table,  of  the  same  style  and  century  as  the  bedstead,  stood  in 
the  middle  of  the  apartment,  sumptuously  covered  with  a  rich 
damask  cloth,  the  massive  fringes  of  which  swept  the  floor  around 
it.  The  solitary  window  of  the  apartment  was  shaded  by  a  cur 
tain  of  similar  hue*,  but  of  softer  and  finer  material.  But  the  uphol 
stery  and  decorations  of  my  chamber,  or  my  prison  —  for  such  it 
seemed  with  all  its  decaying  splendor  —  called  for  little  of  my 
notice  then,  and  deserves  not  that  of  my  reader.  A  casual  --lance 
sufficed  to  show  me  the  things  of  'which  I  have  spoken,  and  I 
do  not  think  I  bestowed  upon  them  more.  There  were  matters 
far  more  serious  in  my  mind  and  important  to  my  interest.  Two 
stools  which  the  apartment  c;.ntained,  aflbrded  seats  to  Bruno 
and  mvM'lf ;  and  1  scarcely  allowed  myself  to  be  seated  before 
I  demanded  an  explanation  of  the  strange  scene  through  which 
we  had  gone  with  my  bcnefactn 

"A  little  longer,  dear  Herman  —  be  patient  a  little  longer-^ 
and  then  you  shall  have  no  cans--  to  complain  of  me.  I  shall  strive 
soon  to  convince  you  of  my  wishes  tor  your  happiness  and  welfare, 
and,  perhaps,  of  the  continued  labors  \.  Inch  I  have  undergone, 
having  your  fortunes  in  view  only.  Yet,  I  do  not  promise  you  to 
unfold  the  mystery  entirely,  or  even  partially,  which  enwraps  this 
castle  and  its  unhappy  mistress.  Perhaps  1  can  not.  1  CO1 
lively  there  is  something  beyond  mv  knowledge,  though  not,  I 
trn-t,  beyond  my  pourr.  Should  I  succeed  in  what  I  pmpose, 
and  this  very  night  may  >how,  then  may  you  expect,  such  a 
revelation  as  will  satisfy  your  curiosity  and  make  you  better 
content  with  your  position.  Of  one  thing  1  may  assure  you; 
y..".r  fortunes  are,  better  than  you  think  them,  the  prospect  ij 


191 

favorable    I  \a  not  far  distant  when  you 

a  If,  and    reap  some  of  the 

fruits  of  my  toils.      Hut    I    inii-r    leave    \oU   now.      Nay,  do    not 
me,  and    d»    not    >erk    to    question   me    further.      I    can  not 
now,  I  will   n<>(.  >j.r;ik   more  on  tliis  subject.      It  is  yonr  i:.'- 
that  C 

I  would   have  detained    him  lor  further  <juestions,  spite  of  his 
n,    hut   lie    broke    away    from    me,   and    was   hurrying 
thrut^h  the  small  southern  door  of  the  apartment  when  he  sud 
denly   Stopped. 

••  Herman,  1    had    almost   forgotten  a  most    important    matter. 

I  m;  -n  some  cautions.     This  door,  you  perceive,  has  a 

.\-liieh  drojis  within  these  fissures  of  the  wall  and  secures  it 

thorou-hlv.      You  v,  ill   cl.iM-   it    after  me,  and   keep  it  fast  at  all 

Do  not  open  it  to  any  summons  unless  it  be   mine,  and 

my  voice.  «T  what  may  seem  to  he  my  voice,  must  not  per- 

Miadc  you  to  violate  this  caution.      When  I  desire  entrance,  you 

will  hear  the-e  M.unds.  hut  no  words"  —  here  he  breathed,  rather 

than  whistled,  a    slight    note,  interrupted    by   a   singular   (piaver, 

which  seemed    the  very  soul  of   mys-tcry --"  above  all,"  he  COn- 

'.  "let  no  w.iman'<  voicr  persuade  you  to  undo  the  bar." 

the  baroness  should  send  ?" 

••  1  )o    not    \oii    hear.      She   may   send  —  nay,  I    am    sure    she 
will —  come   herself.' 

••  Hut   I  nin-t  then  open  !" 
••  No.  not  then  !      Not   fur  your  life." 
••  Ha.  I'lruno  !      What  may  fhU  mean?" 
''  Intjuire  not  nn\v,  my  .son;    but  hrlirvr    me    that    my  p 
tions  are  not  idle,  not  mine'  1  live  but  to  serve  and  .-ave 

You  confound  me.  Bruno." 
••  Ye-.   1  -d    you  until    now,  and    retjuire  :>  .thing   but 

your  obedience  to  b«-  your  preserver  stOL     I  .ssk,  as  I 

command    JTOtt!     -'»n«l    all    will    be    well,    and     we    .-hall    he    tri 
umphant." 

itlUDge  to  me  than  had  been  \] 
I    what    \\  ;han    all    was    that 

sudden  air  nf  aut!  .     ,  \\hicli  lie  now  a»umed 

for  the  first  time.      I    di  it,  feel    ih< 


198  SOUTHWARD    HO! 

Singularity  of  my  o\vn  tacit  obedience,  without  disputation,  to 
tlie  authority  of  this  man.  I  acted,  all  the  while,  as  if  under 
the  sway  of  an  instinct.  His  eye,  in  the  next  moment,  gave  a 
hasty  glance  to  the  solitary  window  of  my  chamber  and  to  the 
door  in  the  southern  wall  of  the  apartment. 

"That  door  is  almost  unapproachable,"  he  said,  seeing  that 
my  eye  followed  the  direction  of  his  ;  "it  leads  to  an  abandoned 
terrace  which  overhangs  the  lake.  The  portion  of  wall  which 
connected  it  with  the  castle  is  almcst  in  ruins.  Still  it  may  bo 
well  that  you  should  keep  it  bolted.  The  window,  which  is 
grated  and  inaccessible,  will  yet  afford  you  a  pretty  view  of  the 
neighboring  mountains;  these,  as  there  is  a  lovely  moon  to 
night,  yon  will  be  able  to  distinguish  readily.  Should  the  hours 
seem  tedious  in  my  absence,  you  can  amuse  yourself  by  looking 
forth.  But,  let  me  warn  you  at  parting,  Herman,  open  to  no 
summons  but  mine." 


II  i;  left  me  at  these  words,  and  left  me  more  perplexed,  if  not 
more  apprehensive,  than  ever.  My  meditations  were  neither 
clear  nor  pleasant.  Indeed,  I  knew  not  what  to  think,  and, 
perhaps  naturally  enough,  ended  by  distrusting  my  counsellor. 
The  change  in  his  deportment  and  language  had  been  no  le>s 
marvellous  than  was  the  reception  which  I  had  met  with  from 
the  bamness.  The  inference  seems  usually  justified  that  where 
there  is  mystery,  there  is  guilt  also  ;  and  Bruno  had  evidently 
been  more  mysterious  and  inscrutable,  than  the  baroness.  She, 
indeed,  had  spoken  plainly  enough.  Looks,  words,  and  actions, 
had  equally  denounced  and  driven  me  from  her  presence;  and, 
ignorant  and  innocent  of  any  wrong,  performed  or  contemplated, 
I  nee«'«,v;irily  regarded  my  benefactress  as  the  victim  of  sudden 
lunacy.  Still,  it  was  impossible  to  reconcile  the  conduct  of 
Bruno,  however  strange  and  nnaccoun'table  it  might  seem,  with' 
the  idea  of  his  unfaithfulness.  He  certainly,  BO  far  as  I  knew, 
had  ever  been  true  to  my  interests.  lie  had  been  something 
more.  He  hail  shown  himself  deeply  attentive  to  all  my  feel 
ings.  Never  had  father  bestowed  more  tender  care  on  a  be- 
loved  son,  and  shown  more  of  parental  favor  in  his  attachment*, 
than  had  been  displayed  toward  me  from  thf  ^rst  by  this  per 


TIIK    MinxiCHT    VISITER.  109 

-tru<t  him  ;    ami,  racked  hy  con 
flicting  conjectures,  I  parsed  two  weary  houra  hefore  anything 

my  thoughts  from  speculations  which  brought 

me  ii  >  higher  to  the  truth.      In  the  meamvhile,  I  had  made  sun- 

ilrv  attempts,  hv  looking  around  me,  to  lessen  the  influence  of 

niv  thoughts  upon   my  feeling-.      I  examined    nry  chamber  with 

:    not  the    feeling,  of   curiosity.      I  mounted    to 

the  \vindo\v,  and    for  a  little  while  was    soothed    hy  the    toft, 

rety  light  of  the  moon,  as  it  seemed  to  trickle  down  the  hrown, 

the  rocks  that  rose  in  the  distance,  hill   upon 

hill,  until   the  last  was  swallowed   up  in  the  gloomy  immensity 

Mid.  The  moon  herself,  in  the  zenith,  was  heyond  my 
i;  la  nee.  But  this  prospect  did  not  relieve  the  anxiety  which 
it  Tailed  to  divert.  I  turned  from  the  pleasing  picture,  and, 

niii-    my  Mat    br>ide   the    tahlc    in    my  gloomy  apartment, 

:    Mil-rendered  myself   up  to   those   meditations   which,  how- 

.,  were  soon  to  he  disturbed.  My  attention  was  called  to 
the  dour  through  which  Bruno  had  taken  his  departure,  and 
\\jiich  —  though  I  did  not  then  know  the  fact  —  led  through  a 

.  dismal  corridor,  to  a  suite  of  rooms  beyond.  A  distinct 
tap,  twice  or  thrice  repeated,  was  made  upon  the  door.  I  was 
on  t!  ttingthe  solemn  injunctions  of  my  companion, 

and  had  nearly  ris^n  from  my  seat  for  the  purpose  <.f  opening  it. 
I  recollected  mvself.  however,  hefore  doing  so,  and  maintained 
an  inilexilde  .silence.  But  I  could  not  stifle  the  heatings  of  my 

•t,  \\hich,  on    a   sudden,   seemed    to    have    acquired    fourfold 

pouers  ..f  pulsation.      I  almost  tottered  under  my  emotion;    and 

n-'thin"-   hut   a   re.-olution   "f  the  nio>t    stern    character,  and    the 

feelinir  "f  shame  that  came  to  my  relief  and  reproached  me  with 

tnv  \veaknrs-.  maided  me  to  pr.  '  -lerahle  degree  of  com- 

ie.      1  kept  silence  and  my  seat  ;    Mippre->ed  my  breathing! 

11  M   I   coid  1  ;    and.  with  68  -Iv  less  keen  than  those 

of  t',  log  \\hcn  the  wolf-drove  trn"ts  ahout  the  end 

did    I    listen   to   the   mvsteiious    summons   from  without.      Again 

and  again,  tin. ugh  still  in  moderate  force,  as  if  some  caution  >vas 

unds  from  reaching  oth<  than 

my    oun,  were    t:  •  peated    up"H    thei'.onr;    and,  after  a 

full    (juarter  of   an   hour,  passed    in   a  condition   QJ          :         ••  the 

'  trying  and  oppressive,  1  \\  a>  at  length  relieved  by  hrarinj: 


200  SOUTH \v,\iii)  HO! 

the  tread  of  retiring  footsteps,  preceded  by  the  murmurs  of  a 
voice  which  I  had  never  heard  In-fore,  and  none  of  the  words 
of  which  could  I  distinguish. 

I  breathed  more  freely  for  a  while,  but  for  a  while  only.  Per. 
haps  an  hour  elapsed  —  it  might  have  been  less  —  it  certainly 
could  not  have  "been  more;  I  had  fallen  into  a  sort  of  stupor. 
akin  to  sleep,  for  nature  was  not  to  be  denied  her  rights,  even 
though  care  had  begun  to  insist  on  hers ;  when  the  summons  was 
renewed  upon  the  entrance,  and,  this  time,  with  a  considerable 
increase  o{ 'earnestness.  Still,  I  followed  the  counsel  of  Bruno, 
returned  no  answer,  and  strove  to  retain  my  position  in  the  most 
perfect  silence.  The  knocking  was  repeated  after  a  little  inte- 
val,  but  with  the  same  want  of  success.  Then  I  beard  voices. 
A  whispering  dialogue  was  evidently  carried  on  between  two 
persons.  How  acute  will  the  ears  of  anxietv  become  when 
sharpened  by  apprehension.  I  heard  whispers, evidently  meant 
to  be  suppressed,  through  a  stone  wall  nearly  three  feet  in 
thickness.  The  whispering  was  succeeded  by  a  third  summons, 
*.o  which  I  paid  as  little  attention  as  before,  and  then  the.  whis 
pers  were  exchanged  for  murmurs  —  sharp,  (piick  murmurs  — 
in  the  tones  of  that  voice,  which,  once  heard,  could  never  have 
been  furg.»tten.  It  was  the  voice  of  the  baroness.  I  could  now 
distinguish  her  words;  for,  in  her  passion,  she  lost  all  her  pru 
dence.  "Said  you  not  that  you  saw  them  enter  together?" 
The  reply  was  not  audible,  though  the  whisper  which  conveyed 
it  was  sufficiently  so. 

"And  you  saw  Bruno  go  forth  alone.?' 

Again  i lie  whisper,  which  must  have  been  affirmative. 

"And  be  took  the  way  to  the  convent?" 

The  response  was  immediate,  and,  1  suppose,  affirmative  also, 
(hough  still  in  a  whisper  too  soft  for  me  to  hear. 

"  Then  In-  must  be  here  '" 

The  remark  was  followed  by  a  louder  knocking,  in  the  inter 
vals  of  which  my  name  was  called  three,  several  times  in  the 
of  the  baroness;  each  time  with  increased  emphasis,  and 
evidently  under  the.  influence  of  a  temper,  roused  from  the  first, 
aiid  growing  momently  more  and  more  angry,  under  disappoint 
ment.  1  began  t-*  reproach  myself  with  my  conduct.  How 
Could  1  justify  this  treatment  of  my  benefit  -t'v&s  .'  B\  v,  ha! 


MtSTEBI    IN'  201 

riglit  'lid  I  exclude   her.  and  what    reason   could    I  my- 

Bclf  "i-  Othe«  f>r  such  di.Mvspectful  treatment?  The  di 
of  this  que>tion  in  my  own  mind  led  to  various  and  conflicting 
resolve*  My  reflection*  all  required  that  I  *hould  answer  the 
summons,  and  open  the  door  to  the  mistiv--  •  f  the  castle  ;  hut 
my  feelings,  swayeil  equally  hy  tlie  my>tery  of  my  situation, 
and  the 'singular  influence  which  Iinuio  had  acquired  over  me, 
to  any  compliance.  "While  I  debated,  howe  rer, 
with  mvsdf,  1  heard  another  voice  without  —  the  voice  of  Bruno 
—  which  Mi-cmi'd  to  produce  as  much  annoyance  and  Battering 
among  my  nocturnal  visitors,  as  their  summon*  had  occasioned 
in  mv  own  excited  heart.  His  tones  were  loud,  and  he  seemed 
to  lie  under  as  much  excitement  as  the  baroness.  The  words 
of  his  lir*t  address  wen-  clearly  audible. 

Mi,  madam,"  he  exclaimed,  "it   is   as  I  apprehended;  you 

•hen  violated  your  promise you  have  dared!" — 

••  Daied  —  dared!"   was  the  almost   fierce  exclamation  in  ro- 
ply. 

-   AY,  madam,  dared.      You  knew  the  penalty  of  faithle 
when    vmi   complied    with    the    conditions;    can  it   he   that  you 
would  defy  it.      How  is  it  then — " 

;id   from  mv    way,   insolent  !"   cried   the   baroness,  inter 
rupting  him  in   haughty  accents,  and  evidently  moving  forward. 
"  Willingly,"  was  tin-  answer;   "willingly,  but  I  go  with  you 
for  awhile.      Dismiss  the  girl." 

Str.mge   I"   lay,  tliis   command,   fur   command    it   wa-,  wa>    in- 
i.       I    ln-ard    the    lianme-is   (dearly   address   a   third 
OH,  of  whom    1    knew  nothing,  but  whom   I  conceived   to  he 
the  person  meant  hv  Bruno,  in  terms  which  despatched  her  from 
the  presence.      The  d:  'ween  the  two  was  then  resumed, 

but  the  sounds  gradually  died  away  from  my  ears,  as  it  seemed 
in  con>e«juence  ..f  the  parties  retiring  to  Mime  more  distant 
M  \    a/.tatinn   may  he  fancied    all   the  while.      So   long  as  the  in- 
terlocutois  were  \\ithi.  1  WM  more  composed  and  quiet. 

When   1  hear  them  and  to  he  OODMUNy  of  their  Q( 

horhood,  my   anx:-  i.ie    utterly    unrest rainablo.      1    di-iied 

the    fears    which    oppi,  .    tl.r    \\arning   which    had 

.1  me,  the  nice  scruple-  ..f  pr,.j  riety  and   delicacy, 
another  time,  I  should  have.  ilittJ  ,. Glint  to  c 


202  SOUTHWARD  HO! 

other  law.  I  lifted  the  bar  from  the  door,  uhieh  1  opened,  and 
emerged  into  the  long-  and  gloomy  gallery.  <.f  \\hich  I  ha\  •  1 
v  spoken.  1  was  resolved  to  pursue  the  parties, 
Mii-i  satisfy  that  intense  curiosity  —  a  curiosity  which  was  strict- 
1\  ju>iified  by  my  own  entire  dependence  ujuni  the  circumstances 
in  pi  gross —possibly,  for  life  and  death,  weal  and  wo,  holiday 
and  freedom  —  which  was  preying  upon  me  like  a  fever.  With 
many  misgivings,  some  momentary  scruples,  and  a  few  fears, 
aL  of  wlrvh  1  contrived  to  keep  in  subjection,  1  pursued  this 
gallery  witli  the  most  cautious  footstep,  resolved  to  hear  the, 
dreadful  truth,  for  such  I  now  esteemed  it  to  be,  upon  which 
turned  the  mysterious  history  of  my  birth  and  fortunes.  I 
groped  my  way,  almost  in  entire  darkness,  along  a  ruinous  part 
of  the  castle.  The  gallery  seemeol  to  be  winding,  and  there 
were  openings  in  the  wall,  which  I  felt  on  either  hand  at  inter 
vals,  and  which  seemed  to  indicate  other  chambers  and  apart 
ments.  Through  these  a  chill  wind  passed,  confirming  me  in 
the  belief  that  they  were  ruinous  and  deserted,  and  satisfying 
me  that  the  parties  I  pursued  were  not  to  be  found  in  either  of 
them.  At  the  end  of  the  gallery  1  was  stopped  by  a  door,  and 
beyond  it  the  voices  were  again  heard,  sometimes  low,  at  other 
times  in  angry  emphasis,  hut  seemingly  with  little  or  no  cessa 
tion  either  of  one  or  of  the  other.  The  words  were  seldom  suf 
ficiently  audible  to  In-  s\  llabled  clearly,  and  my  curiosity  would 
not  sillier  me  to  remain  satisfied.  1  tried  the  door,  which,  to  my 
t  joy,  was  unfastened,  and  advanced  with  increased  caution 
into  a  second  and  small  apartment  which  seemed  a  dressing- 
room.  A  faint  light  gliding  through  a  chink  in  the  opposite 
wall,  together  with  the  distinct  voices  of  the  persons  I  sought, 
guided  me  to  a  spot  where  I  could  see  them  with  tolerable  ease, 
and  hear  all  their  words  distinctly.  The  chamber  into  which  1 
looked  was  similarly  furnished  with  my  own.  It  seemed  to 
have  been  equally  unoccupied.  An  ancient  ottoman  received 
the  form  of  the  baroness,  who,  as  she  spoke,  alternately 
from,  or  sunk  back  upon  its  cushions.  She  scarcely  uttered  a 
sentence  without  accompanying  it  with  great  and  corresponding 
action  •  now  rising  from  her  seat  and  advancing  passionately 
upon  her  companion  with  haml  nplifte-i  as  il  to  -hike,  her  eye 
Hashing  fury  and  resolutior.  while  her  lips  poured  foith  a  tor 


203 

rent  of  impetuous  indignation   and  raire  ;  —  then  sudden! 

.lint:  at   the   cb«e   of  1  •  .  -he  \v«mM   sink   back 

hau-te  1   ujinii  tlu-   ottoman,   burying   her  face  within    her  hands 

and    sobbing  with    disappointed   anger;      I'nmo,   meanwhile 

'•odimcnt  of  coolne>s  ami  resolution. 

"Ulrica,"    1    heard   him  !    approached    the   aperture, 

from  which   you  shouhl  he  no\v  freed.      They 

.vhieh   must    only   destroy   you,    while   they   do   no 

'.    to   \mir   purpose,  enfeeble   you    in   my   sight    and   humble 

in  your  own.      Oi'  what  avail  is  all  this  violence  —  of  what 

'.  your  further  Struggles  to  prevent  that  consummation  which 

ij  length,  at  hand:  let  me   implore  you  to  be  wise  ere  it   be 

Welcome  with   a  smile  the   necessity  which  you 

••  Weld  me   it    with   a  curse  —  welcome   it  with   death,  rather. 
!  do  y..u  call  it  a  i.  ;  it  is  a  necessity  like  death,  and 

vh,  and  such  only,  shall  it  have  my  welcome." 

Iconic  death   with   a  smile,  if  only  !•• 

it  is  a  in-  :eplied  Uruno.      "You  cannot  now  escape  me, 

von  can   not    '.  compliance  with   my  wishes.      I. 

.  and  wearisome   indeed,  have   heen  my  lahors.      I    have   at 
•!i  triumphed!    1   have  succeeded  in  my   purpose,  and  am, 
at    length   the    m;i-'  ur  fate!      I    witness  your   stru_ 

with  Borrow.  ;is  they  <>nly  drive  you  on  the  more  certainly  to 
humiliation  —  perhaps  to  madness.  It  is  pity,  Ulrica,  genuine 
pitv.  and  1:0  other  feeling,  which  would  move  me  to  implore  of 
vu  a  willing  c<mces>ion  of  that  which  you  can  no  Imi^ei'  avoid 
ike.  The  i  now  inevitable,  and  I  wmilil  B] 

;ho>e  i'urther  which  t.-nd  only  to  your  exhaustion. 

You  OWer,  that  y..ur  hatrnl  and  : 

no  h,n-er  awaken  my  indignation." 

•    I>  ilt,    wretch  —  do    you    then    exult?      Beware! 

YOU  -ur  triumph." 

this   ni^ht   pass  only  without  harm  to  the  boy, 
and  all   is  well,  and   our  triumph  is  complete.      I    am   then   your 

nuuri 

"  Master!    master!      Away,  insnleiit,  and  leave  me.      You  arc 
it  ill  i 

"No,  I'li-ica,  you  know  better  than  this.     The  epithet 


204  SOUTHWARD    HO! 

longer  applicable.  I  am  your  master,  and  the  master  of  your 
fate." 

"  Slave !  slave !  slave !"  was  the  oft-repeated  and  bitter  ex 
clamation,  which  came  forth  from  her  lips  in  foamed  impotence. 

"  If  to  conquer  is  to  acquire  the  rights  of  a  master,  then  are 
these  rights  mine.  Still  I  say  not  '  Wo  to  the  conquered.' 
No,  Ulrica,  again  and  again,  I  conjure  you  to  seek  favor  and  to 
rind  it.  It  is  still  in  your  power — it  is  in  your  power  while  this 
night  lasts — to  receive  indulgence.  Be  merciful  to  yourself  ag 
well  as  to  him,  the  youth,  who  now,  for  the  first  time,  from  that 
awful  hour  of  storm  and  meditated  crime,  the  hour  of  his  birth, 
enters  the  dwelling  of " 

"Say  it  not,  man — wretch,  fiend!  Hell's  curses  and  con 
suming  fire  be  upon  that  hour,  and  the  vile  thing  oft  which  you 
speak.  Slave  !  Hence  !  hence  and  leave  me  !  and  hear  from 
my  lips  —  lips  which  have  seldom  spoken  the  language  of  ven 
geance  and  of  hate  in  vain,  that  the  night  is  not  yet  over,  and 
ue  who  shouts  at  the  close  of  one  day  may  howl  ere  the  begin 
ning  of  another." 

"  I  do  not  despise  your  threats,  Ulrica — I  fear  them  ;  —  but  I 
guard  against  them  also.  Did  you  fancy  that  you  could  pene 
trate  to  that  chamber  undiscovered  by  the  watchful  eyes  that 
/or  the  last  seventeen  years  have  been  busy  in  penetrating 
every  movement  of  your  mind  and  soul  /" 

"Accursed  period!  Fiend,  wherefore  will  you  torment  me 
•vith  the  recollections  of  that  time  ?" 

"  Curse  not  the  time,  Ulrica,  but  the  deed  which  it  witnessed, 
md  the  worse  deeds  to  which  it  led  —  your  deeds,  Ulrica,  not 
mine — your  free  and  voluntary  deeds,  to  which  neither  the, 
counsels  of  wisdom,  nor  of  others,  but  your  appetites  and  evil 
passions  impelled  you.  You  have  called  me  slave  repeatedly 
to-night  —  it  is  your  favorite  epithet  when  you  deign  to  isjieak 
of,  and  to  me.  It  is  now  time  that  I  should  relieve  myself  i'roin 
the  epithet,  as  I  am  now  able  to  prove  myself  your  master,  and 
the  master  of  your  fate.  If,  seventeen  years  ago,  I  was  the 
bondman  of  your  father,  annexed  to  the  soil,  his  serf — your 
Mave  —  1  have  been  emancipated  from  all  such  relationships  by 
your  crime.  You  ;  the,  power  winch  was  transmitted 

you,  to  command  my  obedlCUCO.  You  required  '•!  me  a  sen  ice 


Tin  20o 

us  «i  slave,  which  -.n    fr..ni  all  ohligatious  of  tliai  condi- 

ti-»n  ;    and  though  I  wore   the   aspect,  tlio   demean. >;•,  the  hurden 
nf    the  slave,  from  that  moment   I    rexdved  to  he  one.  no  hn 

When  that  h,.y " 

rfle  hii.i  !        Hell's  curses  lie  upon  him  and  yon  !"  was  the 
iiendish  exclamation,  accompanied  hy  looks  equally  fiendish. 

curses,  Ulrica,  will  cling  to  your  neck   and   strangle 

was  tlie  stern  and  indignant  answer  of  TSnmo   to 

this   interruption.      "Of  one   thing  he   certain,  they   neither  vx 

nor   haille   me   in   my   purpose.     They  have   never  hitl 
done  BO,  nor  shall  they  now,  when  my  labors  are  on  the  eve  of 
— fu!  completion.      But  I  resume  :   When  that  hoy  was  horn, 
!  to  secure  him   from   the    fate   of  the   others!      Did   it 
my  fitness  for  freedom  when  my  mind  was   Mir.-rs-ful 
in  the  struggle  with  my  master?      How   long  has   that   strn. 

inued —  what  has  heen  its  history  —  what  now  is  its  termi 
nation  .'  My  triumph  —  my  continued  triumphs  —  my  perfect 
ma-'  you!  I  have  hanMcd  yon  in  your  purposes — pre 

vented  many     -would  I  could  Lave  prevented  </// —  of  youi   evil 
Ifl  and  desires;    protected  the  innocent  from  your  hate  —  pre- 
!    tlu»    t'eehle    from   your  malice,  and    secured,    to   this  mo 
ment,  the  proofs  (Mjiially  of  your  crime  and  my  superiority.     Did 
these  arliievements  seem  like  the  performances  of  a  slave.?     Did 
these    hetrav  the    imhecilitv,  the    ignorance,  or   the    pliahilit- 
the  slave  ?      Xo,  I'lrica,  n«>!      He  who  can  rank  with  his  master 
ha.--    Drained    a    sufficient,  perhaps   the   only  Sufficient    title    to    his 
'•mi  !      Hut    that    title    was    already    gained    when    you    de- 
to    the   level,  and  contented    yourself  with   sharing  the 

pleasures  of  the  slave;    when  you  were  willing " 

\      ''.rent  of  the  most  terrific  imprecation,  in  a  voice  more  like 

the    l>uisting   of  a   thunderholt,    drowned    the    narrative    of  the 

ker,  and    prevented    me    from    hearing   the   conclusion   of  .-» 

tenor  of  which  equally  surprised  and  confused  me. 

t   Bruno  said  •  uongh    to   advance    me    to    a    mental 

eminence   whem-e    1    could   survey  only   a   Ml   of  f^  ..,,„!    !.:1/t>i 
and  niT-tery,  much  deeper  than  Lefore.      When  his  words  ;i. 

;ue  intelligilde.  he  had  discontinued  his  reminiscences. 
••  Hear    D         i  .        Von    know    not    yet    the    extent    of  my 

knowledge.      V^u    .iream    not    that    1    am    familiar  with  your  86- 


206  60UTinv.\np  no ! 

crcts  even  beyond  the  time  when  T  was  called  to  share  them 
Till  now  I  have  kept  the  knowledge  from  you,  hut  when  T 
riMiie  to  you  the  young  hut  unhappy  Siegfried !  His  fate — " 

"Ila!      Can    it    be!       Speak,   man,   monster,   devil!      How 
know  ynu  this  ?     Hath  that  vile  negress  liet rayed  me?" 

"  It  needs  not  that  you  should  learn  whence  my  knowledge 
copies.  Enough  that.  I  know  the  fate  of  the  unhappy  Siegfried 
—  unhappy  because  of  your  preference,  and  too  vain  of  his  ele 
vation  from  the  lowly  condition  of  his  birth,  to  anticipate  the 
fearful  doom  which  in  the  end  awaited  him;  and  to  which  I, 
too,  was  destined.  But  the  kind  Providence  which  lias  pre 
served  me,  did  not  suffer  me  to  be  blinded  and  deceived  by  the 
miserable  lures  which  beguiled  him  to  his  ruin,  and  which  you 
vainly  fancied  should  mislead  me.  You  would  have  released 
my  limbs  from  fetters  to  lay  them  the  more  effectually  upon  my 
soul.  You  commanded  my  submission,  you  enforced  it,  but  you 
never  once  deceived  me.  I  saw  through  you  from  the  first,  and 
prayed  for  the  strength  to  baffle  and  overcome  you.  I  obtained 
it  through  prayer  and  diligence ;  and  more  than  once  it  was  my 
resolution,  as  it  long  has  been  in  my  power,  to  destroy  you,  and 
deliver  you  without  time  for  repentance,  to  the  fearful  agent  of 
evil  which  has  so  long  had  possession  of  your  heart.  That  boy 
nas  saved  you  more  than  once.  The  thought  of  him,  and  the 
thought  of  what  lie  was,  and  should  be,  to  you,  has  come  be 
tween  me  and  my  purpose.  You  have  been  spared  thus  long, 
and  it  is  with  you  to  declare,  in  this  place,  and  at  this  moment, 
whether  you  will  be  wise  in  season,  whether  you  will  forego 
the  insane  hatred  which  has  filled  your  bosom  from  the  hour  of 
his  birth,  and  accept  the  terms  of  peace  and  safety  which  I  now 
offer  you  for  the  last  time.  Hear  me  through,  Ulrica,  and  know 
that  1  do  not  heed  your  curses.  I  am  too  strong,  too  secure  in 
my  position,  to  be  moved  by  the  idle  language  of  wrathful  im 
potence.  This  night  must  determine  equally  for  him  and  your- 
*  if.  To-morrow,  which  witnesses  his  public  triumph,  will  be 
t  .0  late  for  you  nnlos  to  share  it.  I  have  already  seen  his  ho 
liness,  who  will  be  here  at  noon,  armed  with  plenary  powers  to 
rch  and  examine;  and  it  needs  only  that  I  should  point  my 
finger,  and  your  doom  is  written,  here  and  eternally.  You  are 
not  in  tin-  temper  to  die;  and  you  may  escape  for  repentance 


Bl.r  DKIlANCE.  201 

1  ml:  is  noUi-,  intcll; 

and  handsome  ;    lie  will   do    honor   to   any  house.      It  is  only  to 
acknowh-dp " 

•.  mi  more.  >la\  e  !    Base,  blackhearted,  bitter  slave  1    Say 

to  me  on  thU  hateful   subject.      You   hav<  1  me 

g  ;   but  you  have  m-t  yet  battled  me.  as  you  insolently  1 
?till  less   are  you   die   master  of  my  fate! — The  master  of  m,j 
li'a!  ha  !  ha  !      That  were,  indeed,  t<»   he  humble*!  to  the 
du>t.      A\\  av,  t«i-.l,  aii'l   know   that    my    foot    shall   yet   lie    upon 
your   ;ieck.  \\hile   ymir   false    tongue   licks   the   ground  in  which 
\  on  gn.vel.      Away  !      I  defy  you  now,  and   spit   upon  you  with 
,st  ami  &CO1T1,      Give  me  \\ay,  t'.  at  1  r^a\  bt  of  your 

tml  hatelu!  aspect." 

Tin    \vui,i>  of  tin-  man  were  full  of  a  calm,  but  bitter  sorrow. 
n>  he  st«;-jil  before  her. 

yi.ur    Own    >ake  and  safety,  Ulrica,  I  implore  you.      Be 

not  ra>h  ;    yield  t«.  the  necessity  which    must    <ro   forward;   yield 

to  it  wit;  id   all  may  yet   be  well.     There    is   still   time 

-afety  and    for   repentance.      On  my  knees,  Ulrica,  1  suppli- 

\  on  to  be  more  merciful  to  yourself,  to  me,  to  him!" 

never  1"    she    exclaimed,    as.   with   violent    hand    and 

sudden  blow.  .,!,,    .-truck  the  speaker,  who  had  knelt  before  her, 

the  yet  unclosed  lips,  and   rapidly  passed  toward  an  oppo- 

lie  did  not  rise,  but  continued  to  implore  her. 
"This.  too.  1  furtive,  Ulrica.      Once  more  I  pray  you!" 

\e!    Slave  !    Slave!       Do    your   foulest — bast'    traitor,   I 
you  |" 

ed   in   the   same   instant,  and  Bruno  rose  slowly 
•w fully  to  his  i'eet  ;    while,  trembling  with  equal  wonder 
and  apprehension.  1    stole    back  with  hurried  but  uncertain  foot 
ed  hastily  fa>tened  the  door  behind  me. 

VI. 

1   NAT0BALL1    expected  that  Bruno,  in  a  short  time,  won! 

io\\    up»n  my  :  p  indeed  1  -lic'.tnde  with 

which  I  \\  hiscnmiiu      N  c.mld  coir.  un- 

an-'iher  the  singular  and  opp  'ihtE 

and    anxieties    which    had   been    awakened    in    my    mind    by   the 


•jOS  SOUTHWARD  no ! 

>' range  .inti  terrible  scene  which  I  had  witnessed.  The  curiom 
relation  in  which  the  parties  stood  to  each  other  —  the  calm  as 
surance  and  stubborn  resolution  which  was  shown  by  Hruno,  in 
defiance  of  one  whom  1  had  regarded  only  in  the  light  of  a  mis- 
-  equally  without  reproach  or  fear  —  her  fury,  which,  as  it 
awakened  no  respect  in  him,  was  the  sufficient  proof  of  the  weak 
ness  ami  his  power  —  his  mysterious  accusations,  which  I  was 
too  young  to  comprehend  and  too  inexperienced  to  trace  ; — and, 
iv >t  lea>t,  the  fearful  threats  to  which  every  sentence  which  he 
uttered  tended  —  subdued  all  my  strength,  and  made  me  weaker 
in  limb  and  in  heart  than  the  infant  for  the  first  time  tottering 
on  uncertain  footsteps.  There  was  something,  also,  in  the  brief 
space  which  he  allowed  the  baroness  —  but  the  single  night  on 
which  she  had  already  entered  —  for  repentance  before  doom, 
which  fearfully  increased  the  terrors  with  which  my  imagination 
invested  the  whole  fearful  subject.  And  what  could  be  the 
judgment  —  what  the  penalty  —  for  those  crimes,  of  which,  as 
nothing  was  known  to  me,  all  seemed  vast,  dark,  and  over 
whelming?  The  more  I  strove  to  think,  the  more  involved  I 
became  in  the  meshes  of  my  own  wild-weaving  fancies;  and, 
failing  to  fix  upon  any  certain  clue  which  might  lead  me  to  a 
reasonable  conclusion,  I  strove,  at  length,  in  headache  and  vexa 
tion,  to  dismiss  all  thought  from  my  mind,  patiently  awaiting  tho 
approach  of  Bruno  and  the  morning  for  the  solution  of  my  doubts 
and  conjectures.  But  Bruno  and  the  morning  promised  to  be 
equally  slow  in  their  approaches.  The  stillness  ot  death  now 
overspread  the  castle,  and  the  buzzing  of  a  solitary  insect  within 
my  chamber,  acquired,  in  the  tomb-like  silence  of  the  hour,  a 
strange  and  emphatic  signification  in  my  ear.  Hopeless  of  Bin- 
no's  immediate  return  —  as  nothing  could  be  more  natural  than 
the  conclusion  that  his  labors  must  be  great  that  night  in  prepa 
ration  for  those  morning  results  of  which  he  had  spoken  so  con 
fidently —  I  determined  to  yield  myself  to  slumber;  and,  without 
undressing,  I  threw  myself  upon  the  massive  and  richly  decora 
ted  couch  of  my  chamber.  But  I  might  as  well  have  striven 
for  flight  to  the  upper  clouds,  as  to  win  the  coy  and  mocking 
pleep  which  I  desired.  My  imagination  was  wrought  up  to  an 
almost  feverish  intensity.  The  breathing  of  the  wind  through 
•A  i-revice  startled  and  me,  ami  in  the  very  silence  ot 


THK    TIT 

the  scene  ami  hour  I  felt   n  which    stimulated   my  fan- 

.•iml  incre.T:;':1   my  anxiety  and   dread.      T   no   longer   strove 

leep.      1    FOSC  ami  approached  tlio  little  window,  and  looked 

down  upon  tin-  court.      There  the  moonlight  lay,  sj.ivad  out  like. 

a  garment.  BO  •  jiiritual.  that    thought    naturallx 

irveved  it.  and  tin-  vague  uncertainties  of 
the  future,  crowded  upon  the  arena  of  the  present  world.  I 
couM  fancv  shadows  —  which  were  images  rather  than  shadows 
—  which  passed  to  and  fro  in  the  cold,  thin,  hut  haxy  atmo 
sphere  ;  that  tossed  their  wild  arms  above  their  marlde  brow--. 
melting  away  in  the  distance,  they  gave  place  to  wilder  and  pur 
suing  aspects.  Sounds  seemed,  at  length,  to  accompany  these 
movements,  and  that  acute  sense  of  the  marvellous,  which  all 
men  M  proportion  to  their  cultivated  and  moral  nature, 

and  which  seems  a  Duality  of  sight  and  hearing  only  —  a  thing 
all  eyes  and  ears  —  conjured  syllables  from  the  imperfect  sounds, 
and  shrieks  of  pai:i  from  the  vague  murmurs  which  now  really 
reached  my  ears  fiom  a  distance,  and  wliicli.  pnihal.lv.  were  only 
murmurs  or  tlie  wind  over  the  little  lake  that  lay  at  the  foot  of 
the  cattle.  As  this  conviction  stirred  my  mind.  I  remembered 
the  door  to  .vhich  the  attention  of  Bruno  had  been  drawn  for  a 
moment  while  he  wa^  discussing  the  securities  of  my  -chamber. 
nembeved  that  this  door,  as  he  described  it,  led  to  the  ter- 
\\hich  immediately  overlooked  the  lake.  The  remem 
brance,  in  my  feverish  state  of  mind,  led  me  to  doire  to  |Q 

B,  and  I  approached  the  door,  and  had  already  begun  to 
undo  the  fastenings,  which,  by  the  way,  I  found  far  less  firm 
ami  an  my  friend  had  imagined.  The  niches  of  the 

wall,  into  which  the    bar  was   dropped,  were   crumbling,  and  de- 

•  d  to  so  great  a  degree,  that  the  shoulder  of  a  vigorous  man, 
from  without,  might,  without    much    effort,   have   driven    it    from 

-light    IV  v.hich    still    held  it  in  its  place.      Nor  was 

this    degn f  violence    ft  to    effect    an    entr.t 

M  a  further  examination  1  discovered  that  the  wall  had  ! 
tamprrc.-l  with  —  a  fragment    of  the    stoi.,  '    not 

v.  ithdrawn.  through  the    opening   of  which  a  hand  from  without 
t  readily  lift  the  bar  ami  obtain  access.     The  cement  having 

•  carefull'.  utVeied    to    remain, 
•o  nicely  adjusted  t..  the  plare.  that  it  was  only  from   one  point 


:  1 1  \v  A  ! ; ; > 

i.-f  view  that  I  could  discern  a  faint  ^liiMnrv  of  the  moonlight 
through  the  aperture.  The  suspicions  «>f  Bruno,  not  to  speak 
of  my  own,  received  strong  confirmation  from  this  discovery; 
and  my  apprehensions  being  naturally  aroused,  I  now  strove  foi 
means  to  secure  the  door  which  I  had  been  about  to  open.  It 
was  apparent  to  me  that  I  was  now  threatened  with  danger 
from  without.  I  looked  about  my  chamber,  and  my  eye  rested 
upon  the  massive  table  standing  in  the  midst.  I  immediate! \ 
seized  upon  that,  and  placed  it,  though  with  some  difficult} , 
against  the  do->r.  While  I  meditated  in  what  manner  to  in 
crease  my  defences,  my  ear,  which  had  acquired  all  the  K-  .MI 
sensibilities  of  an  Indian  scout  on  the  edge  of  an  enemy's 
encampment,  detected  a  light  buzzing  sound,  which  drew  my 
attention  to  the  terrace.  But  I  had  scarcely  stooped  to  the  ap 
erture,  when  a  scream  —  a  torrent  of  screams  —  rang  so  suddenly 
on  the  late  silent  atmosphere,  that  I  was  ,s*,,£gered,  almost 
stunned,  as  if  a  thunderbolt  had  on  the  instant  fallen  at  my  feet 
in  the  deep  stillness  of  the  unbroken  forests.  The  si  inds  came 
from  the  terrace ;  and  as  soon  as  I  could  recover  from  the  en 
feebling  effect  of  my  first  surprise,  hearing  the  screams  still 
repeated  as  wildly  as  ever,  I  obeyed  the  natural  impulse  of  my 
feelings,  and  prepared  to  rush  out  to  the  scene  of  clamor.  J 
dashed  the  table  from  the  door,  against  which  I  had  taken  such 
pains  to  bear  it,  and  tearing  the  .slight  fastenings  away  which 
otherwise  secured  the  entrance,  I  threw  it  open  and  darted  out 
upon  the  scene.  The  object  that  met  my  eyes,  that  instant,  fas 
tened  my  feet.  There  stood  the  baroness,  about  twenty  steps  from 
me,  and  at  nearly  the  same  distance  from  a  door  in  the  opposite 
Avail,  which  was  open,  and  from  which  she  had  evidently 
emerged.  Behind  her  stood  a  negress  —  a  dwarf — the  black 
est,  strangest  and  most  hideous-looking  animal  I  had  ever  in 
my  life  beheld.  The  baroness  had  been  approaching  my 
apartment — her  face  was  toward  me,  but  her  eyes  were  turned 
—  nay,  fixed  and  fro/en,  it  would  seem,  as  if  in  the  contempla 
tion  of  SOUK;  object  upon  the  parapet  which  overlooked  the  1. 
Her  attitude  exhibited  the  intense  and  strained  action  of  in 
sanity.  One  hand  —  the  left  —  was  uplifted,  and  averted,  as  if 
to  hide  her  eyes  from  the  object  which  they  yet  resolutely 
•trained  to  see.  In  the  other  hand,  glistening  in  the  moonlight, 


TIIK    <]flLTY     VIS]  '21  i 

w  .      ,       >'nard,  hared  and  home  al<>r.  i  for  iinincdi- 

1    -huddeivd    with    an    QiiCODtrollable   emotion    of 

sicklier  —  h.  .-iated  tin1  dialogue  to  whicli 

I  had  listened,  wit!  'rument  of  death.     Hut,  though  her 

:i  toward  my  chamber,  her  e\  «•>  were 

D    to   mo.      Her  thoughts  —  if  thought   slie   had  — 

fancies  were    hurrying   her   to   other 

wo;!  d   objects,  visible  to   no  senses   but  her 

own.      Wildly  she  pointed  to  the  parapet  overlooking   the   lake, 
and    ga/ed    and    spoke  —  a    speech    whose    even    accent    \\ 

if  still   in  sight  lay  some   object  of  hate 
and  fear,  which  she  vainly  ^niggled  not  t> 

"There  —  there  —  will  it  never  sink  —  will  it  never  die  —  will 
th«-se  hideous  ejrefl  never  turn  away!  Down,  down  !  — Thrust 
it  down  when  I  command  ye  —  the  rock  is  heavy  in  its  garments 
—  the  lake  is  deep,  dee}),  and  still  and  silent  —  down  with  it, 
,,-r  from  my  sight  !  Or,  if  ye  tremble,  set  me  free 
and  I  will  do  it  —  I  have  no  fears  —  none  !  none!" 

nd   terrible,  ghastly  and  staring  wild,  with   idiot 

fron/.v,  she   stood   gaxing  and   intent   upon  the   fancied  object  in 

—  immovable,  .seemingly,  U   a  statue,  an  i  conscious  of 

notir  .      I    lost  my  fears   in    the   contemplation   of  I 

•ind   approached   her,  though   hardly  with   anv  distinct   purpose. 

She  seemed  not  to  notice  my  approach  —  not  even  when  the  ne- 

who  followed  in  her  train  rushed  to  her  at  mv  appearance 

Mid  strove,  n  ith  an  excitement  of  manner  only  less  than  her  own, 

[Mention   upon  me.      lint    the  wretched    one  turned 

the   interruption.      Her  eyes  took  but   the  one 

•lion,  and  could  not  be  averted  ;    and  her  incoherent  lang1 

:  <rth  in  rapid,  though  inconsecutive  syllables,  to  the 
her  mind's  vision,  which  'ually  fro/e  to  dark 

all  he;  r..j.acities  of  .sight.  Never  did  I  brhold--- never  could  I 
have  i'.iMciod  or  believed  a  .spectacle  so  wild  and  fearful.  Ima 
gine  If  a  woman,  once  eminently  beautiful  of  a  dark 
and  utty  —  tall  in  form  —  majestic  in  carriage  —  in 
little  in. in-  than  the  prime  of  life  —  wearing  the  •; 
look,  movement,  feature,  ami  g 

b  ;  —  hci 

bon  ..1  -her  0)1  if  to  bn       from  tin 


'212  SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 

burning  sockets  —  her  lips  slightly  parted,  but  with  the  teeth 
gnashing  at  occasional  intervals  with  a  spasmodic  motion  —  her 
fiair,  once  richly  black  and  voluminously  massive,  touched  with 
the  gray  that  certainly  ensues  from  the  premature  storms  of  a 
wintei  of  the  soul,  escaping  from  all  confinement,  and  .streaming 
over  her  cheeks  and  neck  —  the  veins  of  her  neck  and  forehead 
swelling  into  thick  ridges  and  cording  the  features  with  a  tension 
that  amply  denoted  the  difficulty  of  maintaining  any  such  restraint 
upon  them!  —  Imagine  such  a  woman!  —  the  ferocity  of  the 
demon  glaring  from  her  eye,  in  connection  with  the  strangest 
expression  of  terror  which  that  cvgan  ever  wore  —  the  raised 
dagger  in  her  hand  —  her  hand  uplifted — her  foot  advanced  — 
and  so  frozen  !  —  so  fixed  in  the  rigidity  of  marble  ! — the  image 
above  the  sepulchre  !  — no  unfitting  emblem  of  the  dread  and  en 
during  marriage,  which  nothing  can  ever  set  asunder,  between 
unrepented  Guilt,  and  unforgiving  Death  ! 

I  was  nearly  maddened  even  to  behold  this  spectacle,  and  it 
was  a  relief  to  me,  when,  with  a  no  less  terrible  and  terrifying 
energy  she  shook  off  the  torpor  which  stifled  life  in  all  its  wont 
ed  forms  of  expression,  and  renewed  those  fearful  tones  of  mem 
ory  and  crime,  which,  though  revealing  nothing,  amply  testified 
to  a  long  narrative  equal  of  shame,  and  sin,  and  Buffering. 

"There!  there!"  she  exclaimed,  still  addressing  herself  to 
some  imaginary  object  which  seemed  to  rest  or  to  rise  before  her 
upon  the  parapet  which  overhung  the  lake — "There  again!  — 
its  hands  —  its  little  hands — will  nothing  keep  them  down! 
They  rise  through  the  water  —  they  implore,  —  but  no!  no!  It 
were  a  mistaken  mercy  now  to  save  ! — let  me,  not  look  —  let  me 
not  see  —  will  you  not  fling  it  over  —  the  lake  is  deep  —  the  rock 
is  heavy  in  its  little  garments  —  it  will  soon  sink  from  sight  for 
Byer,  and  then  —  then  I  shall  be  safe.  Ha!  it  goes  —  it  goes  at 
last  !  —  Do  you  not  hear  the  plunge  !  —  the  water  gurgles  in  its 
nostrils  —  closes  over  it,  and  —  God  spare  me,  what  a  piercing 
shriek  —  Another!  another!  —  Keep  me  not  back  —  I  will  look 
if  it  be  gone! — No!  no  !  its  little  face  smiles  upon  me  through 
the  white  water  !" 

And  this  was  followed  by  a  shriek,  pirn-ing  like  that  which 
bhe  described,  which  penetrated  1o  the  vrry  marrow  of  my  bones. 
With  the  cry  she  bounded  toward  the  parapet,  looked  wildly 


Til!  ACONY. 

\n\\\  lake  at   tin1  (not  of  the  castle,  then  recoiled  with  a 

mi    t<-  which   every    previous   cry  i'nnn    her   lips  was  feeble 
Ive.      The  climax  of  her  fren/y  had  been  reacheil. 
I  v  her.      She    fell    backward    and    I  re- 

t   in  ny  arms.      The  >h"ck  >eeined   t<>  hring  her  hack 
more   human  con  .     Her  eyes  were  turned  upon 

my    own  ;    a   new    intelligence    seemed    to    rekindle    them    with 
their  former  «  "f  hate  —  her  hand  vainly  strove  to 

the  dagger  against  my  person.      In  the  effort,  it  fell  nerved, 
her  side,  while  a  sudden  discharge  from  the  mouth   and  no-trils 
drenched  my  garments  with  her  blood. 

VII. 

Bnmo   at    that   instant   appeared    and    received   her  from   my 

arms.       The    relief    was    neceflMXJ    to    me — I    could   not    have 

ined   her    much  longer.      I  was    sick    almost    to   exhaustion. 

1     felt    unable    to    endure     a    sight    to    me    so    strange    and 

in    vain    to   turn    my    eyes    away.      They 

fixed     as    if    by    some    fearful     fascination.       Hers,    too, 

now    riveted     upon     me.       At    first,    when    I     transfer!  <-d 

to    the    arms    of    Bruno,  they  were    turned    upon  him  ;    but, 

in   the   next    moment,   as   suddenly   averted,  with   an   e.\piv-.>i<>n 

of  loathsomeness  and  hate,  which  suffering  had  not  soflene.!. 

the  seeming  approach  of  death   diminished  of  any  portion  of  in- 

•v.      On  me  they  be^toued  a  more  protracted,  but  scarcely  a 

B  kindly  expression,       Broken  syllables,  stifled  and  ovei- 

tbe  discharge  of  blood,  struggled    feebly  from  her   lips;    and, 

fainting  ;;t    last,  she  was    borne    to  the  chamber  from  which    she 

had    emerged    at    the    beginning    of  that    scene,  the  purpo-, 

which    >eemed    to  me  so  in.scrutable,  and    the   prOgTOM  of   which 

in  truth    so   terrible.      Medical    UflfttailCC  was   sent    for.  and 

•,  succor  bestowed  in  the  power  of  skill  and  humanity.     Need 

v  that    a  deep    interest    in  her   fate  affected    my  boflOm.      A 

jeci  which  coupled  the  fate 

historv  of  this  noble  In*  v  .retched  lady  with  my  own,  had  natui 
ally  arisen  in  my  mind,  f:.,m    the  dialogue   to  which   I    had    '' 
a  listener.      What  10  me  (      I  shuddered  with    an  apjwe- 

and  painful  terror  whenever   this   (piest'ion  IQggefltod    it 


-14  SOUTII\VAI!I)    HO! 

self  to  my  thoughts.  What  \\  as  she  not  ?  What  had  she  no4 
been  7  and  what  had  hcen  her  purposes  —  her  battled  purposes  \ 
I/st  me  not  fancy  them  lest  I  madden. 

11  It  is  no  subject  <>f  regret,  Herman,"  were  the  first  words  of 
Brur.o,  when,  yielding  the  baroness  up  to  her  attendants,  we  re 
tired  to  another  fipartment.  "God  lias  interposed  to  save  us 
from  a  greater  trial,  and  to  save  her  from  an  exposure  even  more 
humbling  than  this.  The  dawn  of  another  day,  the  sight  of 
wh'ch  she  will  now  he  spared,  would  have  been  worse  than 
death  to  a  spirit  such  as  hers." 

"  But,  will  she  die,  Bruno  ?  Can  she  not  be  saved  ?  is  it 
certain  ?" 

"  It  is  ;  and  I  am  glad  of  it  for  your  sake,  as  well  as  hers." 

"  For  my  sake  ?" 

'•  Ay  !  the  moment  of  her  death  puts  you  in  possession  of  this 
castle  and  all  her  estates." 

"Me!" 

"  Yon." 

"  And  I  am" 

"Her  heir — yet  not  her  heir.  You  are  the  heir  to  a  power 
oeyond  hers,  and  which  proved  her  destiny.  Her  death  makes 
atonement  at  once  to  the  living  and  to  the  dead.  She  now,  in 
voluntarily,  compensates  for  a  long  career  of  injustice.  But,  in 
quire  no  further ;  death,  which  will  place  you  in  possession  of 
your  rights,  will,  at  the  same  time,  deprive  you  for  ever  of  a 
knowledge  of  certain  secrets,  which,  had  she  lived  till  to-mor 
row's  noon,  must  have  been  revealed  in  order  to  compel  that 
justice  which  has  been  too  long  denied.  It  is  fortunate  that  she 
will  perish  thus  —  fortunate  for  her  —  for  you  —  for " 

He  paused,  and  with  an  impulse  which  I  could  not  withstand, 
I  desperately  concluded  the  sentence  — 

"  AIM!  for  yourself!" 

44  For  me  !  Ha  !  —  Can  it  be  ? —  Herman,  my  son,  what  hav* 
yon  done  ?" 

44  Followed  yon  through  the  corridor,  when,  this  evening,  y~i 
Vd  the  baroness  away  from  my  apartment." 

"  And  did  yon  trace  our  footsteps —  did  you  find  us  where  we 
were  —  did  you  hear  what  was  spoken  ?" 

"All       411!" 


TI; 

V.ii'l  in  tho 

ed  and  disappointed  spirit. 
ho  exclaimed   at  length,  "I  ha«l  Imped  t« 
toiled   f..r  this  at  all    »  BCl    hours,  l»y  nijrlit 

and  day,  in  rmwds  and   solitudes.      1'nliappy  hoy!   your  cr, 
ity  lias  won    for  yon  that   partial   kn<>  f  tlio   truth  wliirli 

must  only  ln-injr  delusion,  douht,  and  anxi 

"  But  why  >h.>uM  it  bo.  partial,  "Bruno.  I  know  from  what 
have  already  «aid,  tliat  y  M  know  more,  tliat  yon  know  all. 
will  complete  my  knov  1  i  will  terminate  my  don' 

me,   hy   his  act    tliis 

iiiirht,  that    din-    necessity  I'mm    which  Iso    woll    knows    I    would 

shrunk,  shall  I  now  voluntarily  sook  it  ?     No  !      No  !      The 

fearful   chnmit-le  of  slianio   is   >ealed  np   for   ever  in  her  death. 

ed  dispensation  !      Her  lips  can  no  longer  declare  her  folly. 

and    mine  shall    he  silent    on  her    sliamo.      Von    have    heard   all 

that  you  can  ever  hear  of  the<e  dreadful  my>t- 

Bay   not   this,  I    impl«-re   yon.     Tell   me,  at 

-.  tell  me,  that  tliis  iiir.^t  fearful  woman  is  not " 

I  shrunk  from  naming  the  word,  the  word  si-rnifyinj:  the  rela- 
hip  which  I  >n-jiectoil  to  exist  hetwren  us.  which,  in<: 

itely  more  than   a  doiiht,  a   suspicion.      I 
looked  to  him  t->  <•« mprehend,  to  answer,  without  inakii 

the  expn^-i«'ii  of  my  fear.      "But  he  was  silent,  and  I  f 
out  the   rtdnctant  word  :  — 

MUO.  toll  me   at  least,  that  this  fearful  woman  Ifl 
not — my 

!    of  what  avail    if   1   should   tell    you  this  ?      Would    that 
terminate  your  douhts  —  would  that  satisfy  your  cu 
-.x,,ul.l  —  it  would." 

!  .1    know   your    nature    hotter  —  to   know   this 

woidd  only  lead  to  •••th.  '  'jue.stions 

u-hich,  if  1,  would    I  ind  for  ever. 

would  know  next  — " 
II-  <-<\. 

"  1  would   then    seek    to  know  —  and  1 
MHO     -my  father  —  and   what   is  the 

(U   1  who  are  you?" 
of  thanks  with    von    Herman,  ii: 


216  SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 

nightly  prayers,  that  you  can  never  know  these  things,"  was  the 
hoarsely  spoken  reply.  I  threw  myself  at  his  feet,  I  clasped 
his  knees,  I  implored  him  in  tears  and  supplications,  but  he  was 
immovable.  He  pressed  me  to  his  heart,  he  wept  with  me,  but 
he  told  me  nothing. 


VIII. 

AT  dawn  we  were  summoned  to  the  chamber  of  the  baroness. 

A  crisis  was  at   hand.     His   reverence,  the  cardinal  ,  whose 

presence  had  l.eeii  expected  at  a  late  hour  in  the  day,  and  fur 
another  purpose,  had  been  solicited  to  attend  in  haste,  and  had 
complied  with  Christian  punctuality,  with  the  demands  of  mortal 
suffering.  But  his  presence  effected  nothing.  The  miserable 
woman  clearly  enough  comprehended  his  words  and  exhortations. 
She  listened  without  look  of  acknowledgment,  or  regret,  or  re 
pentance.  She  heard  his  prayers  for  her  safety,  and  a  smile  of 
scorn  might  be  seen  to  mantle  upon  her  lips.  The  HOST  was 
elevated  in  her  sight,  and  the  scorn  deepened  upon  her  counte 
nance  as  she  behold  it.  Truly  was  she  strong  in  her  weakness. 
The  sacred  wafer  was  presented  to  her  lips,  but  they  were  closed 
inflexibly  against  it.  The  death  struggle  came  on  ;  a  terrible 
conflict  between  fate  on  the  one  hand  and  fearful  passions  on  the 
other.  The  images  of  honor  will  never  escape  from  my  memory. 
They  are  engraven  there  for  ever.  She  raised  herself  to  a  sit 
ting  posture,  in  the  bed  without  assistance.  The  effort  was  mo 
mentary  only.  But,  in  that  moment,  her  glance,  which  was 

;  on  me,  was  the  very  life-picture  of  a  grinning  and  fiendish 
malice.  The  expression  horrified  the  spectators.  His  eminence 
once  more  lifted  the  sacred  emblem  of  salvation  in  her  sight,  and 
(he  last  effort  of  her  struggling  life  was  to  dash  it  from  his 
lands.  In  that  effort  she  sank  back  upon  the  pillows,  a  fresh 

! large  of  blood  took  place  from  her  mouth,  and  strangulation 
ft  llowed.  The  sufferings  of  the  mortal  had  given  place  to  those 

hich  there  can  be  no  mortal  record. 

»#*****•*» 
And  I  was  the  master,  undisputed,  of  all  these  domains.     And 
Bruno  had   gone,  none  knew   whither.     Nothing  more  could   I 
fathom  of  these  mysteries,  but  there  was  one  search  that  I  insti- 


'Ill1  :  KT<>.\.  Ll  I 

tuted,  one  discovery  tliat  I  made,  which  tended  tn  d'-ejM-n  them 
yet  more,  in  seeming  to  pve  them  partial  solution.  That  little 
lake.  1  had  it  drained,  and,  \  ;th  the  wall  «>f  tin-  ].aiaj>ct, 

•  uiid  the  tiny  skeleton  e.f  an  infant  —  l.learhed  and  hrokeii 
into  tVaLrments,  luit  sniriciently  j>erfect  to  leave  no  doubt  of  its 
original  hnmanitv.  A  rnde  iVau'inent  <»f  stnni1  Mirh  as  composed 
the  outer  wall  enclosing  the  ca-tle,  lay  upon  its  little  ribs.  Need 
!  v  that  1  gathered  up.  with  the  solicitude  of  a  name1 

:::nant  nf  this  little    ndir.  that    it  \\  as   innrned  \vith    tho 
tendert^.t  care.  MII.:  1  tn  sacred  keejiinir,  \»'ith  the  feeling! 

of  one  who  knew  not  well  that  he  might  not  even  then  jio- 
thoiigh  he  had  never  known,  the  love  of  an  angel  sister. 

10 


CHAPTER   XII. 

" TO-MORROW,  gentlemen,"  said  our  captain,  as  we  ascended 
from  the  supper-table  to  the  deck,  "is  tlie  ever-memorable  anni 
versary  of  our  national  independence,  I  shall  prepare,  in  my 
department,  that  it  shall  be  welcomed  with  due  honors.  It  will 
be  for  you  to  do  your  part.  A  committee,  I  suppose  —  eh,  gen 
tlemen  ?" 

Here  was  a  hint ;  and  the  excellent  Captain  Berry  never 
looked  more  like  a  stately  Spanish  Don,  in  a  gracious  moment, 
than  when  delivering  that  significant  speech. 

"  In  plain  terms,  captain,  we  are  to  have  a  dinner  correspond 
ing  with  the  day.  I  have  pleasant  auguries,  my  mates,  of  pud 
dings  and  pasties.  There  shall  be  cakes  and  ale,  and  ginger 
shall  be  hot  i'  the  mouth  too.  Nay,  because  thou  art  a  Wash- 
ingtonian,  shall  there  be  no  wine?  Shall  there  not  be  tempe 
rance —  after  the  manner  of  Washington  —  namely,  that  goodly 
u<e,  without  abuse,  of  all  the  precious  gifts  of  Heaven  ?  The 
bint  is  a  good  one,  captain.  We  thank  you  for  your  benevolent 
purposes.  It  will  be  lor  us  to  second  your  arrangements,  and 
prepare,  on  our  parts,  for  a  proper  celebration  of  the  Fourth  of 
July." 

"I  rejoice  that  I  am  understood,  gentlemen.  It  is  usual,  on 
board  this  ship,  to  show  thatave  duly  sympathize  with  the  folks 
on  shore.  We  are  still  a  part  of  the,  same  great  family.  There 
will  be  shoutings  in  the  cities  to-morrow.  The  country  will 
-Inke  with  the  roar  of  cannon  from  I'assainafpioddy  M  the  Uio 
(Irande.  Boston  will  hlaxe  away,  and  Gotham  will  respond, 
and  Baltimore  and  Norfolk  will  cry  aloud,  'What  of  the  day?' 
to  Charleston  and  Savannah  ;  and  these  in  turn  will  sing  out  to 
Mobile  and  New  Orleans  and  the  whole  gulf,  to  the  Rio  Grande, 
will  catch  up  the  echoes  with  a  corresponding  uproar  of  rejoicing. 
And  shall  ?/v  say  nothing?  we  who  sail  under  the  name  of  the 
great  partisan  warrior  of  the  Revolution?  Gentlemen,  th  >so 


Tin:  OF  TIII:  DAY.  HIS 

prctn    little  hi  ,  that  now  sloop  at  your  foot,  are  stuffed 

*n   t!  with    eloquence.     They  will   giro  tongue  at  the 

of  tlio  dawn,  and   I  trust  that  all  on  board  this  ship 
will  bo  prepared  to  echo  their  sontinu 

other  word*!,  cap'iin,  wo  must  have  a  colohration." 
"  Kvon  so,  gentlemen,  if  it  bo  your  jdon-uro.     "\Ve  shall  havo 
A  dinnor  —  why  not  an  < -ration  ?     Why  not  our  toasts  and 
tinu  ell   a>    "iir  friends  in   Char-  N    KW  York 

W  here   a   conimunity  to  ourselves,  and  I  venture  to  sa\ 

;io  community  is  more  uiyiiiimous  in  regard  to  the  dinno* 
at  le 

"  Or  the  drink." 
"  Or  the  jiuddings." 
"  Or  tho  i-ios." 

-  The  : 

••  'I'in-  i 

-The  — the.— " 

Til.-;.-  \\-a*s  no  ond  to  the  enumeration  of  the  creature  com- 

whieh    were   to    prove  our  unanimit;  'iment,  and   a 

fei-lii'ir   "f  the    ni'-ck-horoic   jiromptod   us  t«»  take,  uj>  with   due 

•y  tho  hints  of  our  captain. 
\\V    Agreed   upon   a   president,  and   he   was  —  the  captain,    a 

.  ;md  ho  1  matter  who. 

\Ve  ajijuiintrd  a  committoo  of  an  ;I'IL'<  inont-,  with  instructions 
•  •pare  the    regular  tnast<.      And  —  wo  appointed  an  orator! 
This  was  a  little    vhrivelled-iip    person   in   striped  breeches,  with 
a   numbly  yellow  vi^a^o.   and    jrreon    spectacdes.      Nobody  k 

;t  him.  or,  in  fact,  why  he  came  to  be  chosen.      lie 
•dl  day  ;  but  it  '.  that  \vhenevi-r  he 

had   CO1  'r  Wtl  t" 

a   dry    satirical    (diai  .ict.  r.      He    was    accordingly    apj 
and    made    no    ^cruple    about    con-e:i*::!p  ;     only    renn'-kini: 
w:i\-  of  premonitory,  that    "it   \\  ~y  matter  to    kn--\ 

of  all  on  bn.-ird  ship;    ho  should  '  -imply  u 

•i-lie«l  that  ifth"V^«  actly  those  of  tho  coni- 

their  nd-tortune.  which   it   should   make  them 
•     :d  to  enjoy  that  opportunity  of  v 

bought  tl:  ••         '    a  de 

s(df-<-oin[daconcy,  but  it  was  said  <-o  ea-ilv,  so  naturally, 


-20  80UTHWAIM)     IK)' 

and  so  entirely  as  if  the  speaker  had  no  consciousness  of  Laving 
delivered    himself  other   than    modestly,  that    we  concluded  to 
leave  the  matter  in  his  hands,  and  fun-lime  all  comment.     In 
this  resolution  we  were  confirmed  by  seeing  him  begin  his  prep 
arations  the  next  moment  hy  an  enormous  draught  from  the  liar; 
the  potency  of  which,  judging  from  the  infinite,  depth  of  its  color, 
was  well  calculated  to  afford  to  the  orator  all  the  inspiration  that 
could   ever  he  drawn  from   an   amalgam  of  Snake  and  T 
Such  was  the.  title  which  he  gave  to  a  curious  amalgam  of  the 
sweet,  the  sour,  the  bitter,  and  the  strong  —  hitters  and  hr.-r 
lemon  and  sugar,  and,  I  think,  a  little  sprinkling  of  red  pe; 
being  the  chief  elements  in  the  draught.     AVe  iVlt  persuade-!, 
after  this  specimen  of  his  powers,  that  his  tastes  would  he  suf 
ficiently  various,  and  his  fancies  sufficiently  vivid;  and  we  saw 
him  pull  off  his  spectacles,  and  put  off  to  bed,  with  full  confi 
dence    that    neither   sleeping,   dreaming,   drinking   or    wak 
would  he  defraud  our  honest  expectations. 

His  departure  did  not  constitute  a  pernicious  example.  It 
was  followed  by  no  other  of  the  party.  Soon,  the  ladies  ap 
peared  on  deck,  and  we  grouped  ourselves  around  them,  my 
Gothamite  friend  planting  himself  on  the  right  of  Selina  Bur 
roughs,  closely,  but  a  little  in  the  rear,  as  if  for  more  convenient 
access  to  her  car. 

"  So  squat  the  serpent  by  the  ear  of  Eve,"  I  whispered  him 
in  passing. 

"Ah!  traitor,"  quoth  he,  sot  to  rocc  also,  "would  you  betray 
me?" 

"  Do  not  too  soon  betray  yourself." 

"  He.ni  !   a  .sensible  suggestion." 

We  were  not  allowed  to  proceed  any  farther.  The  Lady  be 
gan  with  reproaches. 

"I  am  told,  gentlemen,  that  you  took  advantage  of  our  de 
parture  last  night  to  say  some  of  your  best  things  —  told,  in 
fact,  some  of  your  best  stories.  How  was  this?  But  we  must 
not  be  made  to  suffer  again  in  like  manner,  and  I  propose  that 
we  begin  early  to-night.  .Sigimr  Myrtnh»/zi"—  turning  to  an 
interesting  professor  of  Italian,  who  foimed  one  of  the  party  — 
"  we  should  hear  from  you  to-uight.  If  1  did  not  greatlv  ; 
under.- tnml  you,  there  were  some  curious  histories  recalled  to 


•HIM.  ZZ1 

:liis  morning  in  "ur  conversation  touching  the  '  Tan-linn.' 
Sepnlch  !  iltoii  (  Ir 

'.vn  poor  'fashion.  I    liavt 
y  of 

Ifl  tch    n  Ticiently  fresh  for 

our  nn-M-nt  audio; 

salt  atmosphere?" 

permi  MOD,  senorita,  T   will    narrate 

..he  legend  tlius  compiled  from  the  antique   chronicle,  and  which 
I  call- 

T'.IK   PICTURE  OF  .in>C;MKNT;    <)K,  TUB  GROTTA  DEL  TIFONB 

A    TALK    OF    THE    ETRURIAN 


Mi  «i>  riiiiixci-r  la  prima 

Drl  noatri,  amor,  tn  hni  cotnnto  aff»>tto 

nnii-  ciilui  clM>     ian^i*  »»  «lic«-.  —  DANTI. 


rHAPTKR    I. 

'I'lir.  "(Jrotta  del  Tifoiu  "  —  an  Etruscan  tomL  opened  by  the 
Chevalier  Man/i,  in  1833  —  discovered  SOUK-  peculiarities  at  the 
time  of  its  ojicniiiLT,  which  irreatlv  mystified  the  cognoscenti  of 
Italy.  It  was  I'-nind,  hy  certain  Koman  inscriptions  uj.oii  two 
of  the  sarcophagi,  that  the  inmates  helon^rd  to  another  people, 
and  that  the  vaults  of  the  noble  Tanjninian  family  of  IVmpo- 
fms  had,  for  some  nnacconntahle  reasons,  been  opened  for  the 
tdmUfflon  of  the  stranger,  No  place  wa-  red  among  the 

that  of  burial  ;   and    the   tombs  of  the  Lncnmones 

!  anjuiiiia    wrre    ladd     particularly    sacred    to   the    immediate 

Here  he  lay  in    Mate,  and    the    scions 

and  shoo-  :,lo.»d   and    bosom  were   grouped    around    him, 

:    literally,  as    the   old    Hebrew  phraseology  hath  it,  "  gat  h 
!o  their  fathers."      It  I  and    then  only  under 

peculiar  circumstances  which  rendered  the  exception  to  the  rule 
•T  —  that  the    leaver  of  Mone  which    closed    the  mausoleum 
jolled  aside  for  tin-  admission  of  foreigners.     The  "Giotta 
did  TifoiM  "  —  so  called  from  the  Ktniscan  Typh"n.or  Angel  of 
Death,  which    apj  ••  .  >\\-\y    painted    upon    the   MjTiare 

pillar  —  was    the    hist    icsting-placi1   of   thu  di>tingui 


222  sniTH\\'.MM>   no! 

family  <>f  Pomponms.      It  is  a  chamber  eighteen  paces  long  aiiK 
sixteen  l)ro:ul,  and  is  hewn  out  in  the  solid  nu-k.     Tin   sarcoph- 

weiv   numerous  when   first   discovered.     ':  ^es  were 

full  —  every  place  was  occupied,  nnd  a  further  excavation  had 
hren  made  for  the  reception  of  other  tenants.  These  tombs 
were  all  carefully  examined  hy  the  explorers  with  that  intense 
feeling  of  curiosity  which  such  a  discovery  was  calculated  to 
The  apartment  was  in  good  preservation;  the  paint 
ings  bright  and  distinct,  though  fully  twenty-two  centuries  must 
have  elapsed  since  the  colors  were  first  spread  hy  the  hands 
of  the  artist.  And  there  were  the  inscription,  just  declaring 
enough  to  heighten  and  to  deepen  curiosity.  A  name,  a  frag 
ment —  and  that  in  Latin.  That  a  Roman  should  sleep  in  a 
tomh  of  the  Ktruscan,  was  itself  a  matter  of  some  surprise;  but 
that  this  strangeness  should  be  still  further  distinguished  hv  an 
inscription,  an  epitaph,  in  the  language  of  the  detested  nation  — 
as  if  the  affront  were  to  be  rendered  more  offensive  and  more 
imposing  —  was  calculated  still  further  to  provoke  astonishment  ! 
Why  should  the  hateful  and  always  hostile  Roman  find  repose 
among  the  patriarchs  «>f  Tarrjuinia  ?  —  the  rude,  obscure  barba 
rian,  in  the  mausoleum  of  a  refined  and  ancient  family?  "Why 
upon  an  Etruscan  tomb  should  there  be  other  than  an  Ktruscan 
inscription?  One  of  the  strangers  was  a  woman!  "AV!m  was 

and  I'm-  what  was  she  thus  distinguished?  Bv  what  fatality 
came  she  to  find  repose  among  the  awful  manes  of  a  people, 
between  whom  and  her  own  the  hatred  was  so  dee])  and  inex 

;ishabh — ending  not  even  with  the  entire  overthrow  of  tin 
f.uperior  race  :  The  sarcophagus  <>f  the  other  stranger  was  with 
out  aii  inscription.  Hut  he,  too.  was  a  Roman!  His  eiV 
betraying  all  the  charac'-eristics  of  his  people,  lay  at  length 
above  his  i'-mb;  a  noble  youth,  with  features  of  exquisite  deli 
cacy  and  beauty,  yet  distinguished  by  that  falcon  visage  which 

••11  marked  the  imposing  features  of  the  great  masters  of 
the  ancient  world. 

The  wonder  and  delight  of  our  visiters  were  hardly  lessened. 
while  their  curiosity  was  stimulated  to  a  still  higher  degree  of 
intensity,  as  their  researches  led  them  to  another  discover} 
which  followed  the  further  examination  of  the  "  Grotta."  On 
tl:-«  right  of  the  entrance  they  happened  upon  one  of  those 


Til:  'L9.  22fc 

I,  in  which  the  genius  of  t!  m  proves 

anticipated,  though  I;  ;  !  the 

ultimate   excellence   <>f  tin    '  n  fre- 

;!   sulject  uf  art  —  a  p:                              :ls  to  judgment,  under 
the   charge  of  good   and   01 

d    figure- 

pti'in  fine  ;   and,  with    ' 

.•itet'ul  to  the  .'ins  to  be 

••ternal     Ik-lights.        Two     .if    tilt'    vlils,   hn\V.  UOt 

•!,  hut  COnvid  :    ii"t  _•.  hut  doomed  ;    not  lurking  ] 

and  hlis-,  hu:  ,:id  utter  i  (  )ne  of  these  i>  clearlv 

tlie  ii'ihlc  youth  \\  ho>e  otligy,  without   inscription,  appears  upon 

;he  It. .man   intrud-  :nd    him, 

following  dose  the  Ktru-ean  —  iv; 

•  —  hrntal   in  all    his   features,  exultin-   li.-nd- 

in    liis  .    and    with    his    claws 

his  victim.      His  l.n.w  is  twined 

with  in  the  manner  of    a  fillet,  and    his  left   hand    ear- 

mallei    with   which    the    demon    irafl    BZJ 

rni-h.  or  Lruise  and    m  •    prey  which  v  !iim. 

"ther  unhappy  soul,  in   similar  keeping,  is   that  of  a  v 
d.'dare  her  t-  of  the  lov.di. 

rail    and  majestic  ;    her  ven 

in    her  wo,  an  1    her   face    equally  distinguished    l»v  the    hi_ 
physical    heauty,  eh".ated    hy  a  majoty  and  air  of  swav.  which 

d  to  the  hahitual  ••  ;'  her  own 

will.      But,  through    all  md    majesty,  there    are  the 

ul    which    pa- 
• 

her    cheeks  the    only   tokens   which    her   large    Juno-like    . 
0  to  have   given  of  the  suffering  which    she  en  ;i;:,    .      '! 
Mill  j  :heir  tires  undimmed   and   undaunted, 

rath-'  .  and  the  general  featu: 

.;,  unutteraMe  \\  o  that    swells  within    ' 
triumphant  equally  ..\  er  pr'.de  and  heauty.      Nothii 
'»  f"  -ii v  unutterahle,  unless 

in  tin-  -\mpathmng  imagination  of  him  wt  r  the  so:: 

°f  the  p..  .;Cil  int..  the  \.  .  the  artist.      Iinme- 

dial.  utiful  ai: 


224  SOU'i  I  iv,"  A:;,> 

following,  as  in  tl,  :he  Roman  youth  alre;: .  ly  de-mbed, 

tlie  gloomy  and  brutal  demon  —  the  devil  «  f  Etru-«Mu  supersti- 
tion  —  a  negro  somewhat  less  dark  and  deformed  than  the  other, 
ind  >eemingly  of  the  otlier  sex,  with  looks  less  terrilde  ant! 
iisive,  but  whose  office  is  not  le<-  certain,  and  whose  features 
,uv  not  less  full  of  exultation  and  triiunjih.  She  does  not  artu- 
ally  grasp  the  shoulders  of  her  victim,  hut  she  has  her,  never- 
theh-  -ith  her  clutches,  and  the  serpent  of  her  fillet,  with 

extended  head,  seems  momently  ready  to  dart  its  venomous 
fang*  into  the  white  bosom  that  shrinks,  yet  swells,  beneath 
its  eye 

L<.ng  indeed  did  this  terrible  picture  fix  and  fascinate  the 
eyes  of  the  spectators;  and  when  at  length  they  turned  away, 
it  was  only  to  look  back  and  to  meditate  upon  the  mysterious 
and  significant  scene  which  it  described.  In  proceeding  further. 
however,  in  their  search  through  the  "  Grotta,"  they  happened 
upon  another  discovery.  They  were  already  aware  that  the 
features  of  this  beautiful  woman  were  Roman  in  their  type. 
Indeed,  there  was  no  mistaking  the  inexpressible  majesty  of  that 
countenance,  which  could  belong  to  no  other  people.  It  was 
not  to  be  confounded  with  the  Etruscan,  which,  it  must  be 
remembered,  was  rather  Grecian  or  Phoenician  in  its  character, 
and  indicated  grace  ami  beauty  rather  than  strength,  subtlety 
and  skill  rather  than  majesty  and  command.  But,  that  there 
might  be  no  doubt  of  the  origin  of  this  lovely  woman,  examin 
ing  more  closely  the  effigy  upon  the  sarcophagus,  first  discov 
ered —  having  removed  the  soil  from  the  features,  and  brought 
a  strong  light  to  bear  upon  them  — they  were  found  to  be  those 
exactly  of  the  victim  thus  terribly  distinguished  in  the  painting. 

Here,  then,  was   a   coincidence  involving  a  very  curious  mys 
tery.     About  the  facts  there  could  be  no  mistake.     Two  stran 
gers,  of  remarkable  feature,  find   their  burial,  against  all  usage, 
in  the  tumulus  of  an  ancient  Etruscan  family.     Both  are  young, 
of  different   sexes,  and    both    are   Roman.     Their   features 
carved  above  their  dust,  in   immortal   marble  —  we  may  all 
call  it  so,  when,  after   two  thousand  years,  it  still  preserves  its 
trust;    and  in   an   awful    pr.  ds  to  judgment,  delin 

eated  by  a  hand,  of  rare  excellence,  and  with  rare  precision,  we 
find  the  same  persons.  C. -nvn  to  the  life,  and  in  the  custody, 


THE  noo\n:i 

fts  <!  'he  terrible  fiend  of  Ktrusean  mytln.! 

DC    terrible    tale    was    evidently    attached. 

Both  of  r  portraits.      For  that  matter,  all  were 

::i   tin*    nume:  ••ction.      With    those    two   excep- 

•  "f  the  v.-ime  lainily,  and  their  several    i' 

•Ive    (if    the    painter,    were    all    felicitou  ;. 
Tin-;.  .mil  consciousness,  • 

tie   in   their   b  \ 

two;   the  nun  :-u])  —  with   hut   not  of  tliein  —  pain 

fully  contrasted    hy  the  artist,  —  terribly  so  h\    the  doom  of   the 
1    Providence  who-  !K.   had  ventured    thus  freely  to 

declare.  The  feature-  of  the  man  had  the  expression  of  Olio 
whom  a  j u^t  self-esteem  moves  to  submit  in  dignity,  and  without 
complaint.  The  face  of  the  woman,  on  the  contrary,  is  full  o/ 
:ish.  though  still  distinguished  by  a  degree  of  loftiness  and 
character  to  which  bis  offers  no  pretension.  There  were  the 
portraits,  and  tin-re  th-  and  hi-ncath  them,  in  their  stone 

cotlius,  lay  the    fragments  of  their  mouldering  bones  —  the   relic 
of  two  thous.r  What  a  s;-ene  had    the  ui  n  tt> 

tran>mit    to    posterity,   from    real    life!    and   with    what    motive.' 
hat   terrible  BOOM  of  justice,  or  by  what   strange   obliijuitv 
of  judgment  and  letdiug,  did  the  great  Lucumo  of  the  1'ompoiiii 

•;il  ers  of  his  family  to   be  thus  oilen.-ivelv  per; 
ated    to   all    time,  in    the    place  ,f  family  sepulture  ?      Could    it 
have  heen  the  inspiration  of  revenge  and   hatred,  by  which  this 
and    terrible    representation   was  wrought  ;    and  what   was 
th-     iM-lanchoiy    lu-tory   of    ihrse  two    strangers  —  so   young,  SO 
•»iful  —  t!,  i    to  the  inexpiable   torments  of  the  eml- 

v  the    bold    anticipatory  awards  of  a  successor  or  a 
contemporary  *      To  tin-  us  our  explorers  of  the  "  Gi 

«lel  Tifiiu.-*      .d    not   immediately   find   an   answer.     That  they 
have  doi,  ier  will  ascribe  to  the   keen  anxiety 

with    which    'hey    have    groped    through    ancient   chronicle 

h  «.f  an  event  which,  thus  wonderfully  preserved  by  art  for 
a  period  of  more  than  twenty  centuries,  could   not,  as  they  well 
ed,  !  -  wholly  oblii.  MM  all  other  moital  records 

10* 


SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 


I'll  AFTER    II. 

Tun  time  bad  passed  when  Ktrurin  gave  laws  to  tlie  rest    -»f 
Italy.     Lars  Porsenna  was  already  in  his  grave,  and   his  mem 
ory,   rather  than   liis   genius   and   spirit,   satisfied   the  Ktruscan 
The  progeny  of  the  She  Wolf*  had  risen  into  wondrous  strength 
and  power,  and  so   far  from   shrinking  within  their  walls  at  the 
approach  of  the  vulture  of  Volterra,  they  had  succeeded  in  (dip 
ping  her  wings,  and  shortening,  if  not  wholly  arresting  her  flight. 
The  city  of  the  Seven  Hills,  looking  with  triumph  from  her  emi 
nences,  hegan  to  claim  all  within  her  scope  of  vision  as  her  own. 
Paralyzed    at    her    audacity,    her    success,    and    her    wonderful 
genius  for  all  the  arts  of  war,  the  neighboring  cities  hegan  to 
tremble  at  the  assertion  of  her  claims.     But  the  braver  and  lesn 
prudent  spirits  of  young  Etruria  revolted  at  this  assumption,  and 
new  wars  followed,  which  were  too  fierce  and  bloody  to  continue 
long.    It  needs  not  that  we  should  describe  the  varying  fortunes 
of  the  parties.     Enough  for  our  purposes  that,  after  one  well- 
fought  field,  in  which  the  Romans  triumphed,  they  bore  away, 
as  a  prisoner,  with  many  others,  Coelius,  the  youthful  Lucumr 
of  the  Poinponian  family.     This  young  man,  not  yet  nineteen 
was  destined  by  nature  rather  for  an  artist    than   a   soldier.      1I< 
possessed,  in   remarkable  degree,  that  talent   for  painting  and 
statuary,   which   was   largely   the    possession   of  the   Etrurians; 
and,  though  belonging  to  one  of  the  noblest  families  in  his  native 
city,  he  did  not  think  it  dishonorable  to  exercise  his  talent  with 
industry  and  devotion.      In  the   invasion   of  his  country  by  the 
fierce  barbarians  of  Rome,  he  had  thrown  aside  the  pencil  for 
the  sword,  in  the  use  of  which  latter  weapon  he  had  shown  him 
self  not  a  whit  less  skilful  and  excellent,  because-  of  his  prefer 
ence,   for  a  less  dangerous   implement.     His  captivity  was  irk- 
s  .me,  rather  than  painful  and  oppressive.     He  was  treated  with 
indulgence  by  his  captors,  and  quartered  for  a  season  in  the  fam 
ily  of  the  fierce  chief  by  whose  superior  prowess  he  had  been 
overthrown.     Here,  if  denied   his   freedom,  and    the   use    of  the 
sword,  he  was  not  denied  a  resumption  of  those,  more1,  agreeable 
exercises  of  art  to  which  he  ha •!  devoted  himself  before  his  can- 


BIDE. 

]<>d    himself  in   this  condition   liv  hi-    r;. \orite 
ctu<  '       framed  t1 

'     ' 

11  around  him.      The   fierce  war 
rior  in  A\  •  on  with 

which  hi 

facu'-  .:all  ;    and    it    B0m<  .-nig 

ii,  (liat  lie    should  asure   in 

paragfog, 
th.-it   they  tended  to  the  increase  of  his 

••:•;   the    old   Iloina:. 
•ijie,  or  much   of  enter; 

from  out-  wh<  ;   and  the  more  gentle 

.:ly.  in  which  ho  was  a  irr,e<t  ]>rr:  ..?ril»- 

utr'!  -ajitivity. 

I-uciimn  oi'  t!.  :,k  in  Ktruria.  !  :diar 

>H«';:"  from  a  people  who,  conscious  of  their  own  inf 

;,  were  not  hy  any  meanfl  b  t<>   the.   D  aris- 

()in-  capti  -'Hiigly  treated  with  a 

wliich  W«  ,-ful  to  his  con, iit ;,,n  as  it  was  the  jnuju-r   trib- 

8  rank.      The  Wife   «>t'  the    rhief  «  lie  was, 

nol.le   matron   of  Ron  a  little  ins  .  the 

••nirian,  a  the  equal  I  ,iid  niaii- 

llone  tin:  ,>,  are 

°^';-  and  virtues.      She  had  a  son  ami  daughtn.  the  lut- 

•^1'""^  aii  ainhition. 

'"lt    •  raj»i<lly   and   warmly   hnpn 

w'(l'  \\hich  »ii 

both  learned    to   l,,ve   him, 
t!u'  }  t>Ulh,  1  :  u  unrei-koniii^  j  hig 

: 

B  -man    damsel,  and, 
| 

fam;:  tl:e 

:    with    delii,rlit.    Wl  .    Of    her 

.11.!,  the    Pel.  ' 

in  expla- 


228  r  IT  WARD  no! 

>- 

nation,  which  ended  to  their  mutual  satisfaction.     Cu-lius  was  soon 
.1  from  his  captivity,  and,  to  the  astonishment  of  all  his  family, 
returned  home,  1  tearing  with  him  the  beautiful  creature  by  whom  his 
affections  had  been  so  suddenly  enslaved. 


CHAPTER    III. 

His  return  to  Tarquinia  was  hailed  with  delight  by  every  member 
of  his  family  but  one.  This  was  a  younger  brother,  who-c  position 
had  been  greatly  improved  by  the  absence  and  supposed  death  of 
Cu'lius.  He  curst d  in  the  bitterness  of  his  heart  the  fate  which  had 
thus  restored,  as  from  ihe  grave,  the  shadow  which  had  darkened 
his  own  prospects;  and  though  he  concealed  his  mortification  under 
the  guise  of  a  joy  as  lively  as  that  of  any  other  member  of  the 
household,  he  was  torn  with  secret  hate  and  the  most  fiendish 
jealousy.  At  first,  however,  a-  these  feelings  were  quite  aimh-s. 
he  strove  naturally  to  subdue  them.  There  was  no  profitable-  ob 
ject  in  their  indulgence,  and  lie  was  one  of  those,  cunning  beyond 
his  years,  who  entertain  no  moods,  and  commit  no  crime,  UD 
with  the  distinct  hope  of  acquisition.  It  required  but  a  little  time, 
however,  to  ripen  other  1'relings  in  his  soul,  by  which  the  former 
were  rather  strengthened  than  diminished,  and  by  which  all  his 
and  perhaps  feeble,  efforts  so  subdue  them  \\ere  rendered 
fruitless.  In  the  first  bitter  mood  in  which  he  beheld  the  return 
of  his  brother,  the  deep  disappointment  which  he  felt,  with  the 
necessity  of  concealing  his  chagrin  from  every  eye,  prevented  him 
from  bestowing  the  attention  upon  the  wife  of  Cu'lius  which  her 
beauty,  had  his  thoughts  been  free,  must  inevitably  have  com 
manded.  With  his  return  to  composure,  however,  he  soon  made 
the  discovery  <'f  her  charms,  and  learned  to  love  them  with  :i 
pa--ion  -carccly  less  warm  than  that  which  was  felt  by  her  hus 
band.  Hence  followed  a  double  motive  for  hating  the  i, 
and  denouncing  his  better  fortune.  Aruns  —  the  name  of  the 
younger  brother  —  was,  like  Co'lius,  a  man  of  great  talent  and 
iiuity  :  but  his  talent,  informed  rathei  b\  hi-  .  :l;an 

by    his    :  Idressed     to    much    humbler  objects.     While 

the    one  -;\e    and    gentle;   in   hi-   character,    the    other 

violent    and    di •>trucli\e  ;    while    the  one  worshipped   beauty   for  its 


TIIK    SllKI'ENT    I\  ~-11 

• 
own  sake,  the   other  regarded  it    onlj  pur 

i  kriii  drone  in  h's  temper,  Armii 

id  contracted.      The  one  had  n<»  disgi:! 

tl>e    '.'her  dwelt  within   tin  :  jinlled    liy  his 

and   lyii  -  >•      llitlicrto, 

had   heen   chieiiy  e\-!':-cNcd   in   co-.icealing  itself,  in 

•  if  frankness,  in  appearing,-  •  might, 

tin1  tliinir  that  he  was  not.      It  \\as  n-.w  to   he   exeicised    for  his 

nmre  fertain  profit,  in   si-heines   Imstili1    to    the    ju-are   .if  <*\: 

he  betrayed  more   than   nsnal  jo\-  at  the 

•    -!i  of  his  hmther.      His,  iiun  .-d  the  m.^t  elated 

>j»:rit    of    the    household,    and    the  confiding    and    unsuspecting 

MS  at  once  took  him  to  his  heart,  with   all  the  warmth   and 

•:-itv   "f  h..yho<>d.      It    i;ave   him    pie.  that 

Aurelia.  his  wife,  received  him  M  ;i  hrotlier,  and  he  regarded  with 

ipearance  of  affection  that  suhsisted  between  tb em. 

Tip1    thi'ee    soon   hecame  more   and    more  united  in  their  sympa- 

:hie>  ;m«l  ohjects,  and  llu>  devotion  of  Arnns  to   the  Roman  wife 

productive  of  n   gratification  to  the   latter,  which 

he  did  not  endeavor  to  conceal.      It  was  grateful  to  him  that  his 

'l:cr   diil    not    leave    his  wife   to   that    solitude   in   her  tor- 
home,  which  i  ;etimes  have  followed  h' 

•  fion  to  the  arts  which  he   so   passionately  loved  ;   and,  with 
out  a  fear  that  his  faith  might  he  mi-placed,  he  left  to  Ann: - 

which  no  !IM.  hand  might  pi'iidentK'  ,ion  anv  man, 

•nid    allections,  the  m.i.^t  dedicate 

and  J  family  d  :nple  in  which 

,.  ::!;.!   Hi-  IM  igtCT,  shoidd  a!«,i 

p,  and  at  length  it 

•  -thor 
and    hi<  9                     had    ph-a-cd    hii;, 

TIOW  no    '..!ig«-r   -poke   of  Arnns  —his  name    i 
lips,   unh'v-,-    \\-hen   she    was   unavoidaldv   forced    to    -peak    it    in 
replv.      Hi-    ajiproaches   to    her  :ked  hy  a   f'n: 

i!  with  him.  and  hy  a  Jifn/fnir  in  her  coiintonrr 

n  to  no  other  per-on.     It  v. 

Oo^lius  f»r  his  wife  that  he  reproached   her  f>-r  this    seeminir   dis 
like,.      She  baffled  his  inquiry,  nu-t  :  lies  with   ren 


2oO  fiOUTHWARl)    110  ! 


of  tenderness,  and  (he  fond,  confiding  husband  resumed 
his  labors  on  the  beautiful,  with  perhaps  t'»o  little  regard  to  what 
going  on  around  him.  Meanwhile,  the  expression  in  ih-- 
ta<-,'  of  Aurelia  had  been  gradually  deepening  into  gravity.  Care 
was  clouding  her  brow,  and  an  air  of  anxiety  manifested  itself 
upon  her  cheek  —  a  look  of  apprehension  —  as  if  some  danger 
were  impending  —  some  great  fear  threatening  in  her  heart. 
This  continued  for  some  time,  when  she  became  conscious  that 
the  eve  of  her  husband  began  to  be  fixed  inquiringly  upon  her 
and  with  the  look  of  one  dissatisfied,  if  not  doubtful  —  disturbed 
if  not  suspicious  —  and  with  certain  sensibilities  rendered  acute 
and  watchful,  which  had  been  equally  confiding  and  affectionate 
before.  Those  signs  increased  her  disquiet,  deepened  her  anxi 
ety.  But  she  was  silent.  The  glance-  of  her  husband  were  full 
of  appeal,  but  she  gave  them  no  response.  She  could  but  re 
tire  from  his  presence,  and  sigh  to  herself  in  solitude.  There 
was  evidently  a  mystery  in  this  conduct,  and  the  daily  increas 
ing  anxieties  of  the  husband  betrayed  his  doubts  .lest  it  might 
prove  a  humiliating  one  at  the  solution.  But  he,  too,  was  silent. 
His  pride  forbade  that  he  should  declare  himself  when  he  could 
only  speak  >f  vague  surmises  and  perhaps  degrading  suspicions 
He  was  silent,  but  not  at  ease.  11  is  pleasant  labors  of  the  studio 
were  abandoned.  Was  it  for  relief  from  his  own  thoughts  that 
he  was  now  so  frequently  in  company  with  Aruns,  or  did  he 
hope  to  obtain  from  the  latter  any  clue,  to  the  mystery  which 
disturbed  his  household  ?  It  was  not  in  the  art  of  AureHa  so  to 
mould  the  expre  —  '<  n  of  her  countenance  as  to  hide  from  others 
the  aimety  which  she  i'olt  in  the  incroasing  and  secret  commun- 
i'»:i  of  the  brother-,.  She  \v;,tched  their  departure  with  dread. 
and  witnessed  their  return  together  with  agitation.  She  saw,  or 
fane!  iw,  in  the  the  younger,  a  malignant  oxul 

ta'iion  which  even  his  habitual  cunning  did  not  suffer  him  en 
tirely  to  conceal. 

CHAPTER     IV. 

AT  length  the  cloud  seemed  to  clear  away  from  the  brow  oi 

her  husband.     He   once  more  resumed   his  labors,  and  with  an 
avidity  which   he  V1   \t«i  befoiv.     His  passion  now 


Tli:  LABOR.  231 

amounted    to    intensity,      lie   uave    himself    no   re.-pite   from   \i\B 
oils.      Late  .-HI  1   e.-;;l\    he  was   at    hU   task —  morning  and  night 

—  without  inten  ,d  with  tlio  enthusiasm  of  one  w\ 

ihe  completion  of  a   favorite  and  long-cberisbed  study 
Aurelia  was  not  unhappy  at  this  second   change  ;   to  go  Lack  tn 

M  engagements  and  t.i  >-d  to  lier  to   indicate    I 

turn   to  his  t'»niirr  equanimity  and  wavelcss  happiness.     It 
\\itli  :rpri-<'.  Imwever,  and  not  a  little   concern,  that   she 

Mot  n«»w  permitted   to  watch   his  progress.      He  wrought   in 
•udi'i    \\as    rl'iM-d    against    her,    as,    indeed,   it 

.     Hitherto  it  had  not  heen  so  in  her  instance. 

pleasantly    reproached    him   for    this   seclusion,  hut   he    an- 

vd    her  —  "Fear   not,   you   shall   see  all  when   it  is   done." 

Tin  mething  in  this   reply  to  disquiet  her,  hut  she  was 

"f  mind  easily  to  he  disquieted. 

also  of  a  secret  withheld  from  her  hushand 

—  and  her  reproachefl  sunk  hack  upon  her  heart,  unnttered,  from 

of  what  she  felt,  declare  to  hiir 

what  she  thought  ;   and  she  heheld  his  progress,  from  day  today 

with  an  apprehension   that   increased   momently,  and   made  her 

appearance,  in   mi"   n-spect.  not    unlike   his   own.      She   was   not 

re  that  h.  victim  of  a  strange  excitement,  in  which 

his  pre-ent   artist  labors  had   a  considerable  sliare.     lie  seemed 

•'on   with    an    eager   impatience   that 

turn   from   his   daily  task  with   a 

frame  exhausted,  hut  with  an  eye  that    seemed  to  hum  with 

few,  hut  th.  'itel- 

I      '          IT     chi  •  kl  had  grown  very  pale,  h:>  frame 
;  dinned,  hi>  \  ojrr  made    hollow,  in  the  prosecution  of  t: 

!    yet   the'  ..ething  of  exultation   in 

t'ully  d.-clared  that,  however  exhausting  to  his 
b«    the  ta-k    he  was    pursuing,  its    results  [ 
looke.l    to    with    a    wild    an  :  itisfaction.      At    length 

'  >ne  day  he  Mood  hefore  her  in  an  attituo 
•"ii.      "  It  is  finished  !"   he  exclaimed.      4I  You  shal1 
'  to-nion-ou." 
••  What  is  it  ' 
"  Nay,  to-m«,rro\\  !   tO-B 
He  then  retired  to  >h •( •}•  .  :al  hours.    She  looked 


SOITH  w  \I;D  no  J 

on  him  while  he  slept.  Hi-  had  never  rested  BO  profoundly  since 
he  had  begun  the  labor  from  which  In-  was  now  freed.  The 
slumber  of  an  infant  was  never  more  calm.  \\  as  m\er  .-.fier, 
BWetter,  or  purer.  The  bcauly  of  C'celius  was  thai  of  the 
most  peaceful  purity.  She  bent  over  him  as  he  slept,  and  kJ 
his  forehead  with  lips  of  the  truest  devotion,  while  two  big  team 
gathered  in  her  large  BVCS,  and  slowly  felt  their  way  aloii.ir  her 
cheeks.  She  turned  away  lest  the  warm  drops  falling  upon  his 
face  might  awake  him.  She  turned  away,  and  in  her  own  apart 
nient  gave  free  vent  to  the  feelings  which  his  pure  and  placid 
slumbers  seemed  rather  to  subdue  than  encourage.  Why.  with 
such  a  husband — her  first  love  —  and  with  so  many  motive,  to 
happiness ,  was  he  not  happy?  Ala-  !  v,  ho  shall  declare  lor 
the  secret  yearnings  of  the  heart,  and  say,  as  idly  as  Canute  to 
the  sea,  "thus  far  shall  thou  go,  and  no  farther— here  shall  thy 
proud  waves  be  stayed."  Aurelia  was  a  creature  of  fears  and 
anxieties,  and  many  a  secret  and  sad  presentiment.  She  was 
\ery  far  from  happy  —  ill  at  ease — and  —  but  why  ,mii< -ipate  ? 
\\  e  .shall  soon  enough  arrive  at  the  issue  of  our  melancholy  nar 
rative  ! 

That  night,  while  she  slept — for  grief  and  apprehension  have 
their  periods  of  exhaustion  which  we  misname  repose— her  hus 
band  ro.se  from  his  couch,  and  with  cautious  footsteps  departed 
from  his  dwelling.  lie  was  absent  all  the  night  and  returned 
only  with  the  dawn.  lie  re  entered  his  home  with  the  same 
stealthy  caution  with  which  he  had  quitted  it,  and  it  might  have 
In  en  remarked  that  he  dismissed  his  brother,  with  two  other 
p< T-ons.  ;it  the  threshold.  They  were  all  ma-ked.  and  other 
wi-i-  disguised  with  cloaks.  Why  this  mystery  ?  \Vhere  had 
thev  }>ccn  —  on  what  mission  of  mischief  or  of  <hame ':  To 
Ccelius,  Mich  a  necessity  was  new,  and  scarcely  had  he  entered 
his  dwelling  than  he  cast  aside  hi-  cUflgufaei  with  the  air  of 
One  who  loathe*  their  U16&  He  was  very  pale  and  haggard,  \\ith  a 
fixed  but  glistening  expression  of  the  eye,  a  brow  Mf  settled 
gleom,  from  which  hope  and  faith,  and  every  interest  in  life 
ltd  utterly  to  lie  banished.  A  single  groan  c-caprd  him 
when  he  stood  alone,  and  then  he  raised  himself  erect,  as  if 
hitherto  he  had  leaned  upon  the  arms  of  others.  He  carried 
himself  firmly  and  loftily,  his  lips  o.mpres-rd.  hi*  «  rly 


Til!  ill. 

-rward  ;     and    thus    after    the   interval    of    a 
he  passed   to  the  chamber    of    his    wife.      And    siill    she  sl.-j-i.      lie 

•,s,lv  and    intently  -a/in-    u; 
which    •-'.  '•   only   to    -idd.  n    into    super:  II-- 

linked    UP  M    "f 

Which  call  never    i,     mtamdentOOd       Still    he    loved    her,  thoiiLjh  be- 

Q  her  heart  and  his.  a  hi-h.  impassable    barrier   had  been    r,. 
up  by  the  ma«  hinations  of  a   guilty   spirit       Tend' 
vailin- character  ot  his   glance  until   she  ipoke.      Her   steep,  though 
deep.    WU    not    wholly    undisiurbed.       Fearful    ima-.  h«T 

fan,  ami  s(.b)>ed.  and   cried. 

him— Flavins,   my  dear   Flavins!  "  and   her  breathing  again   b* 
free,  and  her  lips  sunk  once  more  into  r^XM*      15ut   f^irful  was  the 
cha.  -idened   tender!  -ny   and  desj^iir.  which 

passed  overt h-  '    elhli   M    he  listened   to   her  cry.     Sud- 

•ikin-  his  cleticheil   hands  a-ainst    his  f,,re!  '  .x,k 

them  terribly  at  the  .sleeping   woman,  and   rushed   wildly  out   of  the 

apartment 

(  IIM'TKU    V. 

I-,-    |  MIC  day  — a    warm    and    <unny    noon,    in 

which   the  birds  and    the    bree/e    equally    counselled    pleasure    and 
The    viands  rtOOd    \xfnn-   ma   (  ulius   and    his    wife,    the 
ch,,ice-.t    fruits    ,,|    Italy,  and  ieh  ini-ht   not.   in   i 

lia\.  -  med    the    favorite    chain'1  ' 

ifted  in  the  hands  of  both,  and  the  heart  of  Auiviia  bit 
almost  as  cheerful  as  the  expiv— i'-n  on  her  face.  It  WM  the 
retlecti.-n  in  the  fa.  6  ot  h.  r  husband.  His  ],: 

longer.         The     to!,.  -        Were      neither     cold,     1! 

A     Change— the    knew     not     why  — had    . 

spirit,   and    he    smilled.   nay.    lau-h.d  out.   in  th 

ultatioii     of    a     new     life.       Aurelia    (onjedured    nothin-    of    this 
8osudd.ii  chan-e.      Knoii_s-h   that    it    was  .-reatful   to  her   >«ail. 
was   too    happy  in    its  intlucnce    to    impure    into    its   cause.      What 
happy  does    inquire  ?      She   quailed  the  -oblet   at   his 
bidding  — quaffed  it  to  the  dregs  — and  her  eye  gleamed  deli: 
and  delightfully  upon  his.  (  V(  n  as  in  the  tir>t   hours  of  their  union.  t 


SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 

not  perceive  that  ever,  at  the  close  of  his  laughter,  there  wa>  a  con- 
vulMVe  quiver  in  his  tones,  a  sort  of  hysterical  sobbing  that  he 
seemed  to  try  to  subdue  in  vain.  She  noticed  not  this,  nor  the 
glittering,  almost  spectral  hriirhtne-s  of  his  glance,  as  laughinir 
tumultuously,  he  still  kept  his  -i/e  intently  fixed  upon  her.  She 
was  blind  to  all  things  hut  the  -Tateful  si-rns  of  his  returning 
happiness  and  attachment.  Once  more  the  goblet  ^vas  lifted 
;'To  Tunnes  [Mercury]  the  conductor,"  cried  the  husband.  The 
wife  drank  unwittingly— for  still  her  companion  smiled  upon 
her,  and  spoke  joyfully,  and  she  was  as  little  aide  as  willing  to 
perceive  that  anything  occult  occured  in  his  expression. 

"Have  you  drank?"  he  asked. 

She  smiled,  and  laid  the  empty  iroblet  before  him. 

"Come,  then,  you  shall  now  behold  the  picture.  You  will 
now  be  prepared  to  understand  it." 

They  rose  together,  but  another  change  had  overspread  his 
features.  The  gayety  had  disappcnvd  from  his  face.  It 
covered  with  a  calm  that  was  frightful.  The  eye  still  main 
tained  all  its  eager  intensity,  but  the  lips  were  lixcd  in  the  icv 
mould  of  resolution.  They  declared  a  deep,  inflexible  purp 
There  was  a  corresponding  change  in  his  manner  and  deport 
ment.  Hut  a  moment  before  he  was  all  life.  grace,  gavel  v  and 
it  llexibility  ;  he  was  now  erect,  majesiic  and  commanding 
in  aspect,  wilh  a  lordly  dignity  in  his  mo\cment,  that  declared 
a  sense  of  a  high  duty  to  be  done.  Aurelia  was  suddenly  im- 
•'•d  \vith  misgivings.  The  change  was  too  Midden  not  to  startle 
her.  Her  doubts  and  apprehension-  were  not  h-s-cned  v.hen, 
in.-lead  <.f  coiiductin.u-  her  to  the  studio,  where  she  expected  to 
see  the  picture,  he.  led  the  way  throu.u'h  the  vestibule,  and  into 
the  open  court  of  the  palace.  They  lingered  but  for  a  moment 
at  the  entrance,  and  she  then  beheld  Ids  brother  Aruns  approach 
ing.  To  him  she  irave  not  a  look. 

•   All  i-  right,"  -aid  the  latter. 

••Knier'"  waa  th<-  reply  of  Oelius  ;  and  as  the  brother  di-ap- 
peared  within  the  vestibule,  the  two  moved  forward  through  the 
outer  gate.  They  passed  through  a  lo\el;  irood,  sha-ly  and 
silent,  tliidUL'.h  which,  subdued  by  intervening  leaves,  -Kanied 
only  faintly  the  bright.  cl--ar  sun  of  Italy.  From  under  the 
huge  chestnuts,  oil  either  hand,  the  majectic  gods  of  Etruria  ex- 


Til  nir:   HA  '  ;.I:N<  i:.        '':>-> 

d    tlirir    LTuidini:    and    endowing    hamK       Tina.    i»r    .Jup' 

or    Apollo,    Krkle,    Turnies.    and    tin-     rest,    all     conducting 
tin-in  ale:  Hi     tin-     pt  1  he 

:y    proud    lliru-can    family.       They  entered    the 
cinn    grove  which    was    dedicated    to    niirlit    and    silence,  and   v. 
about    to   a-ceiid    the    gradual    slopes    by    which    tin-    tumulus 
approached.     Then  it   was  that    the    mis-mniTs    of    Aurelia    took  a 
inur.  :.»nu.     She    felt    a    vairue    hut    opprewjve    fear.      She 

tod. 

"Mj    (  (BliH8»"  the  exclaimed,  '•whither  do   we   1:0?     I<   not   this 
the  passage  to  tin-  house  of  silence?  " 

you   not   know  if.'"  he  demanded   .[iiickly.  and   fixing  up«»n 
:  ke«-n   iiKiuiriiiLf   irlance..      "CkHne!"  he  continued,  "it    i<  tliere 
that  I  have  fixed  the  picture:  " 

lius.  wherefon  V     It   i- upon  this  picture  that   you 

deeply   enira-ed.      It    has    made    you   -ad— it    has   left 

us  both  unhappy.      L<  I  u*  not  go— let  me  not  K&  it'"     Her  ai:itation 

He   -a\\  it.  anil   his  face   put    on  a  look  of 

\ultation. 

.    hut    (him  mu-t    we  it— thou  shall    look    upon  it   and    be 
hold    my    triumph,   my    LTeate-t    triumph    in    art.  and    perhaps    my 
I    shall    never    touch    pencil    more,   and    wilt     thou    refuse    t,, 
!i    my    last    and     noble>t    work.      Fir!    this    v.  •  re    a    \\  ron^ 
it    shame    in    tliee,   Aurelia.      Come1    the    toil    of 
which    thou  think'st   but  coldly,  has  brought   \\\<  'her    than 

iMade    of    death  a  tiling    rather    familiar    than    of- 
If    it    has    deprived    me    of    hopes,  it   ha^    left   me  without 

•    Deprhn    ;    foil   of   hop.  >      lius."  said   the  wife,  still    linuer- 

••  I. . 

<  >.  my  husband,  \vh- 

i  not   tliai  \\e  are  within  the  -hadow 

of  the  tomb"  " 

•  iitreat 
in.^ly.  with  UK  'it  at  ion. 

well    thou   max  -t  .      The 

fathers    of    the    Poinponii,   for    t\\n    thousand    y 
ing    around    u>    «.:»    their    sightless   wlngl,     They    wonder  thut    ft 


•v;>';  BOl  T1IWAK1)    II »»  ! 

Roman  woman  should    draw  ni^h  to  tin-  dwellings  of  our   ancient 
Lucumoi: 

"  A  Roman  woman!  "  >he  exclaimed  reproachfully.     "  My  Oclius, 

Wherefore  this?" 

"  Art  thou  not?" 

"I  am  thy  wife.  ' 

"  Art  sure  of  that?  " 

"As  thegpdfl  live  and  look  upon  us,  I  am  thine,  this  hour  and 
for  ever!" 

"  May  the  u'ods  jud^e  thee,  woman,"  he  responded  slowly,  as 
he  paused  at  the  irate  of  the  mausoleum,  and  fixed  his  eyes  in 
tently  upon  her.  Hers  were  raided  to  heaven,  with  her  uplifted 
hands.  She  did  not  weep,  and  her  grief  was  still  mixed  with  a 
fearful  agitation. 

"Let  us  now  return,  my  Cu-lius!" 

"What,  wilt  thou  not  behold  the  picture?" 

"Not  now  —  at  another  season.     I  could  not  look  upon  it  now!  " 

"Alas!  woman,  hut  this  can  not  he.  Thou  must  behold  it 
now  or  never.  Hope  not  to  eseape.  Knter !  1  have  a  tale  to 
tell  thee,  and  a  HIT  lit  to  show  you  within,  which  thou  can'st  not 
hear  or  see  hereafter.  Knter:"  As  he  >poke.  he  applied  the 
key  to  the  stone  leaf,  and  the  door  slowly  revolved  up-.n  the 
pivots.  She  turned  and  would  have  lied,  hut  he  irra^ped 
her  by  the  wrist,  and  moved  toward  the  entrance.  She  carried 
her  freed  hand  to  her  forehead  —  parted  the  hair  from  h<  • 
and  raised  them  pleadingly  to  heaven.  Ke>i>.tanee  &€  -aw  was 
vain.  Her  >eer«-t  was  discovered.  She  prepared  to  enter,  but 
slowly.  "Kntcr!  D-.st  thou  fear  now,"  cri-d  her  husband, 
"when  commanded?  Ha^t  thou  BOt,  thou,  a  Roman,  ventured 
already  to  penetrate  the-e  awful  walK  -iven  to  silence  and  the 
dead— and  on  what  mk-i,,n?  Knter,  as  1  bid  thee:  " 

r  ii  A  r  T  i;  K    \ . 

Sin:    obeyed     him,    shuddering    airl    silent.       He     followed     her, 

the    entrance,  and     fastened     it    within.       They    were    alone 

the    dead    of   a    thousand     \ear>  —  alone,    but     not    in    dark- 

The     hand    (•('     preparation     had     be<-n     there,   and     creeds 

were    burning'    upon  ;    their    limits,  rcll«  •  D     the 


PI  O  N . 

,mn,  :!iin     the     apartment. 

<1   fantast! 
My    explored    tin-    chant':> 

.    of  t'u'lius  watch'  ,1   them  with  an 
ful  triumph,  which  did   not  «  Hie  firmly  m«  ; 

almost    inquiringly,    while   her   hands   were   involuntarily  and 
:Kively  clfl  'hiT. 

Aurelia?" 

•  ii    know'st  '.    thou    know'st  !  — whciv    |fl    h«  ?      Tdl    inc.  my 
is.  that    IK-  is  safe,  that    thou  hast   spcil  him  hence  — that  I  may 

11.    -inilrd  vj-'ninYantly  a>  he  replied,  "He  is  safe  — I  liav- 
him  I'M 

,ai    [AdoiKiil,  my   hn.-l.and.  keep   tliec    in  the   hollow   of  his 
hand." 

••  H.,\\  !  Bh&mi  .ln.ii  dare  M>  inucli?  " 

i  thon.  my  Cu-liu^V  " 

thou    here."  he   ans\\eivd.  ' '  t ill   I    sh-)\v   thec   my  picture." 
11,    pointed    h<  r,  u  hi  Jj  »i>«'»  which 

placi-il   IM  I'M  It'  Mi!,mi>MY.  ly.     Then,  with  a  wand   in   his   hand, 
,'iim.M-lf.    seated    upon   another  mllm  of  :    U)  a 

curtain    which    Covered    one    of    !,  of    the    chaml.cr.      ' 

hind    that    curtain,   Auivlia,   is    the    laM    work    of    my    hand.-: 

iv    1    unveil    it    to    thine  me    tril    the.-    M-   n. 

history.     It    will    not    n 
known   to  th.  ,      Hon    !    too]  d    the    :::    El  m<  .   w] 

ihrre  a  captta      h"w   I   ii.v.-d   iii,".  and  how  1   believed  in 
thy     a.s-uruiicr.s    of    love;    all     tin -M-     iliiiiLr-     tlK-ii 
wedded,   and    1    hrouirht    the  I       ;»:i    \\oinan.  held    a    liarl- 

Miiilics  of 
all     Ktniria.       Shall     I    tell     tiiec    that    I    loved     th«    >till  —  th   I     1 

when   I   know    thy   perjury,  thy   ("1,1    heart,   thy  hot   lu>t 

•    II ..Id.  my    lord  — .say    not    tli.-e   things   to   my    irrief   and    thy 
dishon-.r.       They     WIOIIL:     me     not      less     than     thy     own      : 
Tin  .    pound    in!"    thine    tar    1>\     s,,n,, 

fals. 

••  Thou  wilt  ;  » 


238  801  TiiWAiji)  n<>  ! 

"  By  all  the  gods  of  Rome- — " 

"  And  of  what  avail,  and  liow  binding  the  oath  taken  in  tin-  names 
of  the  barbarian  deities  of  Komi-." 

"  By  the  Etrurian — " 

"Perjure  not  thyself,  woman,  but  hear  i 

"Go  on,  my  lord,  I  will  hear  thee.  though  I  sutTcr  death  with 
every  word  though  speak'-t." 

"It  is  well.  Aurelia.  iliat  tliou  art  prepared  for  this." 

" Thy  dagger,  my  Coelius,  were  lesa  painful  than  thy  words  and 
looks  unkind." 

"Never  was  I  unkind,  until  I  found  thee  false." 

"  Never  was  I  false,  my  lord,  even  when  thou  wast  unkind." 

"Woman!  lie  not!  thou  wen  discovered  with  thy  paramour, 
here,  in  this  tomb;  thou  wert  followed,  day  by  day.  and  all  thy 
secret  practices  betrayed.  This  thou  ow'st  to  the  bitter  vigi 
lance  of  my  dear  brother  Aruns — he,  more  watchful  of  my  honor 
than  myself — " 

"Ah!  well  I  know  from  what  hand  came  the  cruel  shaft  ! 
Co'liu-,  my  C.rlius,  thy  brother  is  a  wretch,  doomed  to  infamy 
and  black  with  crime.  1  have  had  no  paramour.  I  might  have 
had,  and  thou  might's!  have  been  dishonored,  had  I  hea:  '. 

to  thy  lirother's  pleadings.  I  spurned  him  from  my  feet  with 
loathing,  and  he  requites  me  with  hate.  Oh.  my  husband,  be 
lieve  me,  and  place  this  man,  whom  thou  too  fondly  callest  thy 
In-other,  before  thine  eyes  and  mine!  " 

"Alas!  Aurelia,  this  boldness  becomes  thee  not.     1  my -elf  traced 

thee  to  this  tomb—  -iixse  eyes  but  too  frequently  beheld  thee  with 

thy  paramour." 

"Cu'lius.  as  I  live,  he  was  no  paramour  —  but  where  is  lie.  what 
Last  thou  done  with  him?" 

lit  him  before  thee  to  prepare  thy  couch  in  Hades!" 

"Oh,  brother! — but  tliou  hast  not!  tell  me,  my  lord,  that  thy 
hand  is  free  from  this  bloody  crime!" 

"He  sleep-  beneath  thee.  It  is  upon  his  sarcophagus  thou 
sit  test." 

She  -tailed  with  a  piercing  shriek  from  the  colim  where  -he 
sat,  knelt  be-ide  it.  and  BtTQVe  to  remove  the  heavy  -lone  lid, 
which  had  been  already  securely  fastened.  While  thu 


rxvrii  239 

':   :ii.'  the  curtain  winch  con- 
:  the  picture. 

"  I  in,  hehnld   tlic-   fnto  which   thou   and 

thy  paramour  li.°.'  !   t::i'  ta^k  which  1  liad  Bet 

lion  first  I  li-"  tliy  peijnric  ,      I.  "k  !" 

silence  from  her  I  '  turned  her  eyes  upon 

tlie  picture.      I  unrolled  from  before  it 

and    .she    conceived    the    awful  subject,  and    distinguished,  under 

the  care  of  the  <n">d  ;md  guardian  i'"nii.  the  of  well-know* 

momhers  of  the  I'oniponian  family,  her  interest  was  greatly  ex 

:    l.ut  when,  following   in   the  train  and  under  the  grasp  of 

!  Jrurian  demon,  she  heheld  the  features  of  the  young  Roman 

who  was  doomed,  she  hounded  forward  with  a  cry  of  agony. 

"My   hi-ot!..  ''ax-ins,  my   own,  my   only   brother!"  and 

sunk  down  with  outstretched  arms  hefore  the  melancholy  shade. 

••  Her    In-other!"    exclaimed    the    hushand.       She    heard    the 

pidly  to  her  feet. 
11  Av,   Flavins,    my    hrother.    hani.-hod    from    Rome,   ami    con- 

!   even  from  t 

my  hushand,  as  1  would    not   vex   thee  with   the   anxieties  of  a;» 
Ktrurian  imhh-,  1e-*   li    •    E  '  hould  hoar  and  punish  the.  poop], 

,i  her  outlaw  was  protected.  Thou  knmv'st  my  crime.   This 

-  the  Irnther  of  my  heart  —  child  of  the    sam«- 
and  dame      a  nohle  heart,  a  pure  spirit,  whose  very  virtues  ha\o 
heen  tin-  <  '    Rome.      Sla\'  me,  if  thou  wilt, 

hut  toll  me  not,  (),  (^adius,  that  thou  hast  put  the  hands  of  hate 
upon  my  hrother  !" 

Mian  —  well-planned,  hut  fal>*'.      K  •  OW 

I  n«.t  thy  hrnthor.'     Did  I  not  kim-.v  thy  hrother  w<>ll   in  Rome? 
?    we    not    t.igrtho;-     ;'   '      I    toll    tli(>e,    1    should    know    him 

B     .'.ins!" 

;id.  if  ever  1    had  In-other,  then  is  this 

I  tell  ti  .  ;  hut  the  truth.      Of  a  hen  thou 

wort  in   R  thei  wa-    km»wn    to  thee.  hut  the  hoy  has 

rs  have  wmnght  a  change  upon 

him    >f  which    thou    ha>t    n»t    thought,      lieliovo  mo,  what  I  tell 
;ith  AV  hoiii   1   sladtered  in  tin-  vault,  and  to  wh«-      I 
•-ht  find  nightly,  I  -tlior — my  I'! 

only  sou  of  my  mother,  who  .-cut  him  to  me.  with  fond  words  of 


.MO  SOUTH  \VAIM>  no! 

•aty,  when  tlic  consuls  of  the  city  bade  him  depart  in  ban 
ishmoiit." 

"  I    can    not   believe   thee.  woman.     It  were  a  mortal  agony, 

far  hey.nd  what   I  foe!   in  the  conviction  of  thy  guilt,  were  I  tc 

yield  faitli  to  thy  story.     It  is  thy  paramour  whom  I  have  slain. 

and  who  sleeps  in  tliat  tomb.     His  portrait  and  his  judgment  arc 

•  the*1,  and  now  —  look  on  thine  own  !'' 

'I'he  picture,  fully  displayed,  showed  to  the  wretched  Avoman 
her  own  person,  in  similar  custody  with  him  \\\m  was  her  sup- 
•1  paramour.  The  terrible  felicity  of  the  execution  struck 
her  to  the  soul.  It  was  a  picture  to  live  as  a  work  of  art,  and 
to  this  she  was  not  insensible.  She  clasped  her  hands  before  it, 
and  exclaimed, 

"Oh!  my  Coelius,  what  a  life  hast  thoo  given  to  a  lie.  Vet 
may  I  bear  the  terrors  of  such  a  doom,  if  he  whom  thoii  hast 
painted  there  in  a  fate  full  of  dreadful  fellowship  with  mine,  was 
other  than  my  brother  Flavins  —  he  with  whom  thou  didst  love 
to  pl.-.y,  and  to  whom  thou  didst  impart  the  first  lessons  in  the 
art  which  he  learned  to  love  from  thce.  Dost  hear  me,  my  Cce- 
lius,  as  my  soul  lives,  this  man  was  none  other  than  my  brother." 

••  Fa!-e  !  false  !  1  will  not,  dare  not  believe  thee  !"  he  answered 
in  husky  accents.  His  frame  was  trembling,  yet  he  busied  him 
self  in  putting  on  a  rich  armor,  clothing  himself  in  military  garb, 
from  head  to  font,  as  if  going  into  action. 

"  What  dost  thou,  my  lord  ?"  demanded  Aurelia,  curious  as  she 
beheld  him  in  this  occupation. 

'•  This,"  said  he.  "  is  the  armor  in  which  I  fought  with  K.>mr 
whev.  1  was  made  the  captive  of  thy  people,  and  thine.  It  is 
lit  that  1  should  wear  it  now,  when  I  am  once  more  going  into 
captivity." 

••  My  husband,  what  mcan'st  thou  —  of  what  captivity  dost 
thou  speak  ?" 

"The  captivity  of  death!  Hear  me,  Aurelia,  dost  thou  feel 
nothing  at  thy  heart  which  tells  thec  of  the  coming  struggle 
when  the  soul  >h,-ikes  off  the  reluctant  flesh,  and  strives,  as  it  were, 
for  freedom.  Is  there  no  chill  in  thy  veins,  no  sudden  pang,  as 
o.?  fire  in  thy  breast?  These  speak  in  me.  They  warn  me  of 
death.  We  are  both  summoned.  But  a  little  while  is  left  of 
'ife  to  either!" 


TOO  i. ATI:  !  211 

Jore!    T  feel   these  pains,  tliis  chill,  this  fire 

Vt  which  I   _MYI>   fhee.  and  nf  which  I 

k   the  first  and  largest  ilrar.^ht.  was  drugged  with  death." 
"  Tl  ail  true!     Thou  hast  i'.'  fn:th  slain  my  brnthrr. 

hast  — tliou  hast  !" 

not  thy  ln-ntlier,  Aurelia.     Why  wilt  th<m  fin 
Y  at   this  terrihle   moment?      It   is    vain.      WouhNt 
.th  —  wouldst  thou  carry  an  impure  face  of  perjury 
•t  nf  the  Triune  G« -.1  !   Beware  !   Confess  thy  crime 
justify  tl.  :,ce  (-f  thy  lord  !'' 

"As  1  helieve  thee,  my  Ou-lius  —  as  I  helieve  that  thou  ha< 
My  and   unjustly  murdered    my  brother,  and   put  dent! 
in   the   CM])  which,  delivered    hy  thy  hands,  wa-   BW664    Rod 

••iy  ]ip>,  so  must  I    now  declare,  in   sight  of  Heaven,  in 
t'ul  dead,  that  what   I  have  said  and  sworn 
truth.       He  whom  I  sheltered  within  the  tomhs  of  thy 
f-i'h-'  n  "f  mine  —  the  only,  the  last,  hest  broth* 

I  hoi-e  him  in   mine  arms  when  I  was  a  child  im 
1  loved  him  pver!    Oh.  how  1  loved  him!  next  to  thee,  mv  Cce 
ihee!      Coiildst   thou  but  have  spared    me  this 
—  this  brother  !" 

How  knew  I  — how  know  I  now  — that  he  was  thy  hrother/" 
the  choking  inquiry. 

"  T-    MIV€  thee  the  cruel  a^.ny  that  thou  must  feel,  at  knowing 

1        ;ild  e\en  l,p  move.l  (.,  tell  thee  falsely,  and  sav  that  he 

rotber;    hut.  indeed,  -m:e    paramour,  such    as  the 

and    evil    tln."^ht  «.f  th;    J-p.thpr    has    grafted  upon  thine; 

hut  I  may  not  ;  thy  h>v.  ;no  ;,t  this  last  moment 

if  death  were    not    too  terril.le    to    the  fal>e    .speaker.      II,- 

indeed,  jny  Klaviu-  ,,r  mother,  hest  heloV,.«l 

of  hrnthei.-,;  hp  whom  thoudid.sf  play  .vith  as  a  hoy;  to  whom  tlmu 

in    thy  own    h.vely  ;.;r  ;    wlm  h.ved  thee,  my  Ccc- 

..tlly,  ami  only  lorln-r-*  telling  thee  of  his  evil  plight 

lor  fear  that  tii-m  shouldst  incur  .  .m   the   >harp  and  an- 

'"sf>'ify  oi    Q  -    ,-k   my  chamhpr,  and   in   my  cahinet 

tliou  wilt    linil    his    letters,  and    the    letton  O4    my  mother,  borne 

1'iiu  in  l«ir.  Ilight.    Nay,  — oh  !  m-.tlipr,  what  is  this  IgOBJ  /" 

1         :    ••    '    '    "  If  it   he    truth    th.  •!    speak  li;u 

U 


21-J  no! 

- 

it  is  a  truth  tli.it  can  not  save.  Heath  is  upon  us — I  see,  it  in 
thy  face  — I  feel  it  in  n,\  l.eart  Oh  !  would  that  I  could  douht 
thy  story!" 

"Doubt  not  —  doubt  not — believe  and  take  me  to  thy  heart, 
I  fear  not  death  if  tliou  wilt  believe  me.  My  Ocellus,  let  me 
come  to  thee  and  die  upon  thy  bosom." 

"Ah!  shouldst  thou  betray  me  —  shouldst  thou  still  practise, 
upon  me  with  thy  woman  art!" 

"And  wherefore?  It  is  death,  thou  say'st,  that  is  upon  us 
ii'.«w.  What  shall  1  gain,  in  this  hour,  by  speaking  to  thee  fair 
ly '?  Thou  hast  done  thy  worst.  Thou  hast  doomed  me  to 
death,  and  to  the  scornful  eyes  of  the  confiding  future  !" 

She  threw  her  arms  around  him  as  she  spoke,  and  sunk,  sunk 
sobbing  upon  his  breast. 

"All!"  he  exclaimed,  "that  dreadful  picture!  I  feel,  my 
Aurelia,  that  thou  hast  spoken  truly  — that  I  have  been  rash 
and  cruel  in  my  judgment.  Thy  brother  lies  before  thee,*vnd 
yonder  tomb  is  prepared  for  thee.  I  did  not  yield  without  a 
struggle,  and  I  prepared  me  for  a  terrible  sacrifice.  Upon  this 
bier,  habited  as  I  am,  I  yield  myself  to  death.  There  is  no 
help  —  no  succor.  Yet  that  picture!  Shall  the  falsehood  over 
come  the  truth.  Shall  that  lie  survive  rhy  virtues,  thy  beauty, 
*.",-!  thy  life!  No!  my  Aurelia,  this  crime  shall  be  spared  at 
least." 

He  unwound  her  arms  from  about  his  neck,  and  strove  to  rise. 
She  sunk  in  the  same  moment  at  his  feet.  "Oh,  death  !"  she 
cried,  "thou  art,  indeed,  a  god!  I  feel  thee,  terrible  in  thy 
strength,  with  an  agony  never  felt  before.  .Leave  me  not,  my 
Coslius  —  forgive  —  and  leave  me  not !" 

"  I  lose  thee,  Aurelia  !     Where  —  " 

"  Here  !   before  the  couch  —  I  faint  —  ah  !" 

"I  would  destroy,"  he  cried,  "but  can  not!  This  blindness. 
Ho!  without  there!  Aruns  !  It  is  thy  step  I  hear!  Undo, 
undo  —  I  forgive  thee  all,  it'  thou  wilt  but  help.  Here  — hither !" 

The  acute  senses  of  the  dying  man  had,  indeed,  heard  foot 
steps  without.  They  were  those  of  the  perfidious  brother.  But, 
at  the  call  from  within,  he  retreated  hastily.  There  was  no  an- 
Bwer  —  there  was  no  help.  Bui  tin-re  was  still  some  consciousness. 
Death  \\  as  not  )  et  triumphant.  There  was  a  pang  yet  to  be  felt 


—  a  -till  in  tin  ing  man  tc 

lift  t«i  hi*. .  nt  victim.    A  moment's  return  of 

warm  tc. 
her  check,  ami  t<»  I.e.-'.:   :  is  •  ii:i- 

phu  ch   was  vouchsafed  lier  to  ac- 

••  1  'lire,  my  <  thee.  a".'!  1  I 

aii'l  love  thee  to  the    last.      I    know  th;:t    thou  wouldst    never  do 
•hy  own  will;    1    know  that   thou  wort    deceived   to 
1   how.  nil,  how,  when   my  hoad  lay  upon   thy  hrca.-t  at 

-lept  in    peace,  couldst  thou  think   that  I  slioif; 
ihee  wn> 

••  Why."  murmured  the  miserable  man,  "why,  oh,  why  ?" 

1   I  hut  told  thee,  and  trusted  in  thee,  my  Coelius!" 
'•  Why  didst  tliou  n..: 

:   my  hrother's  pe:  !iat  I  did  not  — 

not  that  thou  shouldst  come  to  evil." 
i  thou  f.npv'st   me,  Aurelia  —  IVom   thy  very  heart  thou 

i,  all  —  from  my  heart  and  soul,  my  hushand." 
"  It  will  not,  then,  he  >o  verv  hard  to  die  !" 
An    In- ur   after   and    the    dianiher  was    silent.     The  wife  had 

fd  th>t.      She    l.reathed   her  laM    M^h_nj»im  his    hoscm. 

with  the  last  etl'ort  of  his  strength  he  lilted    !'.!•:•   gently  and  laid 

her  in  the  i-arcophapis,  comjM.Mn^  with  ai  •  the  dra- 

uid    her.      '1'i.  'ked 

im  i'or  his   -\\ord  with  whic!  .'rate  the 

'us  had  a  so  himei.;  al  !••  .11,  •    hut 

tdde,  and    the    paralvsis    ot'      .    ,th    BeizOO    him 

\vli-h  them.      He    sunk    hack  with    ji;.' 

limhs  upon  the  hii-r,  and  tl-  and  the  jiicturc,  faded    from 

ith    the  !  of  his  1::  calumny 

which  had  destroyed  his  hopes,  survived  its  own  detection.      The 
ho. id  was  triumphant  over  the  truth;  yon 

here    the   ram;  hes  of  the 

aimc  Miteiati"!!.      Of  him-elf  there   is  no  monument  in 

I'.mh.  tin  •'•m-liin^  memorial  has   reached  0 

Vaulted  chambei  l>uri«--.l  in  the  earth 
A  fractir.  •  I  >\>  l>v  an   Italian    <reiitlcman  in  com 


241  SOUTHWARD    110  ! 

pnuv  with  a  Scottish  nobleman.  As  they  gazed  eagerly  through 
the  ;iperture,  they  behold  an  ancient  warrior  in  full  armor,  and 
hoarir.g  a  coronet  of  gold.  The  vision  lasted  hut  a  moment. 
The  decomposing  effects  of  the  air  were  soon  perceptible..  Even 
while,  tin  .  the  body  seemed  agitated  with  a  trembling, 

'.  -n,  which  lasted  a  few  minutes,  and  then  it  subsi 
de  1  into  dust.  "When  they  penetrated  the  sepulchre,  they  found 
thf.  decaying  armor  in  fragments,  the  sword  and  the  helmet,  or 
crown  of  gold.  The  dust  was  but  a  handful,  and  this  was  all 
that  remained  «>f  the  wretched  Lucumo.  The  terrible  picture,  is 
all  that  survives  —  the  false  witness,  still  repeating  its  cruel  lie, 
at  the  expense  of  all  that  is  noble  in  youth  and  manhood,  and 
all  that  is  pure  and  lovely  in  the  soul  of  woman  " 

We  all  agreed  that  our  professor,  who  delivered  his  narrative 
with  due  modesty,  had  made  a  very  interesting  legend  from  the 
chronicles  —  had  certainly  shown  a  due  regard  for  the  purity  of 
the  .sex,  in  thus  vindicating  the  virtuous  sufferer  from  the  mali 
cious  accusation  which  had  been  preserved  by  art,  through  the 
capricious  progress  of  more  than  twenty  centuries. 

Several  stories  followed,  short,  sketchy,  and  more  or  less  spir 
ited,  of  which  I  could  procure  no  copies.  The  ladies  gave  us 
sv.rxl/y  pleasant  lyrics  to  the  accompaniment  of  the  guitar,  and 
o.ie  or  two  male  liute  players  contributed  to  our  musical  joys 
tuitJJ  •..'.  '  ,  jaii  to  v orgo  toward  the  shorter  hours,  when  the  fair 
er  portion  MJ'  the  pai'iy  howed  us  good  night  —  Duyckman  nearly 
:•.;:  -j;  own  ami  Selina  Borroughs's  neck,  in  helping  her 
the  c.'ihm-steps 


CHAPTER   XIII 

"THE  GLORIOUS  FOURTH"  AT  SEA 

..KT  us  skip  over  the  small  hours  which  were  consumed   by 
our  little  community  —  we  mav  suppose  —  after  a  very  common 
lashion  on  .shore.     There  was  silence  in  the  >hip  for  a  B] 
hut    a  good   strong   corps  was   ready,  at   the  peep  of  da\ 
iv-p-md,  with   a  general  shout,  to  that  salutation   to  tin-   mom 
ivhieh  our  worthy  captain  had  assigned  to  the  throats  of  hi 

V'  .  <•    u.it    mi-sing    at  tin-  m'um-iif  of  upi-.-ar, 

and,  as  the   bellowing  voices  roared  along  the  deep,  we   echoed 
ihe   clamor  with  a  hurrah   scarcely  leSfl   audihle  in  the  court 
Neptune. 

1  not  dwell  upon  the  exhibition  of  ilcxhtittiUt-.t,  as  we  sev 
f-rally  appeared  on  deck  in  nightgown  and  wrapper,  with   other- 
•  -cant    costume.      Hut,  a.s  our  few  iady-pa>«.eiiger:.   made  no 
Ippearance  at  this  hour,  there  was  m>  need  for  much  precai 
\V.-  funk    the  opportunity    atVonb-d    by  their  absence    t"    procure 
a  good    .snusing  from  the    sea,  admini>tered,  throu-h    ca;i.i 
buckets,  by  the    hands  of  a  courteous   coalheaver,  who    received 

bead    for  our  ablutions.      B}^the  \vav ,  wb 
not    these    admira'  -. 

comforts,    be    ;  witli    balf-a-doxen    bathing  \Ve 

:L,restiou    to    future   buiblers.      A    batii 
net  -  iiore,  and,  lacking  his  bath,  :' 

:::y  a    jiretty   fellow  who    D  tie.      Freijuer.t 

\blution  is  no  small  agent  of  a  proper  morality. 

Outraging  no   propriety  by  our  garden-like  innocence  of   cos 
tume,  we    began    the.   day  merrily,  and    contrived    to   continue  it 
cheerily.      At    the   hour  of  twelve,  the   a\\  ning  spread    abo\ . 
a  smooth  sea  below,  a  line  biee/e  >t reaming  amund  u>. 
all  assembled  upon  the    yinrter-deck.  a    small  but  select  CO] 
gallon,  to  bear  the  man  in   .;  and   grc< 


J46  SOUTH  \VAI!I)    HO  ! 

We  dispensed  with  the  whole  reading  of  the  Declaration  of 
Independence;  our  reader  graciously  abridging  it  to  doggrel 
dimensions,  after  some  sucli  form  as  the  following,  which  he 
delivered,  as  far  as  permitted,  with  admirable  grace  and  most 
senatorial  dignity  :  — 

"  Wlii'ii  in  the  course  of  huinaJi  events, 
A  pi'oj-lo  linvc  cravings  for  eloquence, 
A  dt'i-t-nt  regard  for  common-sense 
Requires " 

\.'e  was  here  broken  in  upon  by  a  sharp  shriek,  rather  than  a 
voice,  which  we  found  to  proceed  from  a  Texan,  who  had  worn 
Ms  Mexican  blanket  during  the  whole  voyage,  and  wljom  some 
of  the  passengers  were  inclined  to  think  was  no  other  tb-an 
Sam  Houston  himself.  His  interruption  furnished  a  sufficiently 
appropriate  finishing  line  to  the  doggrel  of  our  reader:  — 

"  Oli,  go  ahead,  and  d — n  the  expense." 

"  The  very  principle  of  the  Revolution,'  said  the  orator. 

"  Particularly  is  they  never  redeemed  the  continental  money. 
My  grandmother  has  papered  her  kitchen  with  the  'I.  0.  U'8 
of  our  fathers  <»f  [independence." 

This  remark  led  to  others,  and  there  was  a  general  buz/,, 
when  the  orator  put  in,  first  calling  attention,  and  silencing  all 
voices,  by  a  thundering  slap  with  the  flat  of  his  hand  upon  the 
cover  of  a  huge  volume  which  lie  carried  in  his  grasp. 

"  Look  you,  gentlemen."  said  he,  with  the  air  of  a  person  who 
was  not  disposed  to  submit  to  wrong  —  "you  asked  me  to  be 
your  orator,  and  hang  m.e  if  I  am  to  be  choused  out  of  the  per 
formance,  now  that  I  have  gone  through  all  my  preparations. 
Scarcely  had  I  '-eee.ived  your  appointment  before  I  proceeded 
to  put.  mvseif  in  training.  1  went  below  and  got  myself  a  dose 
.•>f  'snake  and  tiger'-  — a  beverage  I  had  not  tasted  before  for 
;he  last  five  months  —  and  I  commended  myself,  during  a 
-wenty  minutes'  iniinci>ion  in  the  boatswain's  bath  at  the  !«•: 
while  yon  wore  all  shaping,  I  suppose  —  to  the  profound  and 
philosophical  thoughts  which  wore  proper  to  this  great  occasion 
With  the  dawn,  and  before  the  cannon  gave  counsel  to  the  -!a. 
J  was  again  immersed  in  meditation  and  salt-water;  followed  1>\ 
.ere  friction  at  the  hands  of  one  of  the  stewards,  and  another 
touch  of  '  *mki"  >  *1  tiger'  at  the  hands  of  the  butler.  I  have 


THE 

thus    prepared  myself  for  the  occasion,  and    I'll   let  you  know  ] 

'he  man  to  prepare  myself  for  nothing.  Either 
must  hear  me,  or  you  must  fight  me.  Let  me  know  your  reso 
lution.  If  I  do  not  begin  up»n  you  all,  1  shall  certainly  begin 
upon  some  one  of  you.  and  I  don't  know  but  that  Texan  shall 
.-.-toiiier.  a-  being  the  first  to  disturb  the  businev 
of  t'  An  audible  snort  from  the  blanket  was  the  onb 

answer    from    that   uuarter;    while   the    cry   of — "An    orator 
rator!"  from  all  parts  of  the  ship,  pacified    our   bollig> 

.Demosthenes, 

He  began  accordingly. 

TIIK    ORATION    OK    TIIK    <J  It  F.  K.\->  I'l  .rTAfLKD    ALAHA.MIAN 


or  Fclloir-i  We  are  told  by  good  author 

ity  that    no  man   is  to   bo   pronounced    fortunate   so   h.ni:   U 
lives,  since   every   moment  of  life   is   subject   to   cap.  ires  \\hich 
his    condition,    and    render    your    Congratulation. 
fraudulent  and  offensive.     The  same    rules,  for  the  same  rea><>n. 
'hould   he   adopted  in  regard   to   nations,  and    no  eulogy  should 
-poken    upon    their  institutions,   until    they    have    ceased    t« 
It    w^uld  Jy   be   much    easier  fur  me    to   dilate 

n  and    ralen<|ue  than  upon  any 

countries,  BinC6    they  will  <  re  suffer  from  invasion, 

and  the  scandalous  chronicle  of  their  pri  is  totally 

pryinir  posterity. 

"  In  regar-1  t->  our  ct.un'ry,  what  would  }••'•!  have  me  say?     Am 
..iiinonrd    to  the  tribune  to  deal   in    the,    miserable   follies  and 
'mods  which  n-iw  privade  tin-  l.ind  I      At  this  moment.  ' 

and  village,  and    to\vn    and    li.-.mlot  in  the 
•.nuiiii  voice  of  Self-delusion  and  ileception 
.  on   all   ham!  •  .'.tulation  of  tl. 

and  one  another,  about    >ui  ''lannony 

About  our  jirosjKM'ity  a  j/reat  deal    may  1  r  -aid    !:    ;iei.:ly.  if 
lid  a  pe«'p'  .'y  and  e\c»-ll- 

clothe    and    fred    themselves.      Our    ance.-tors    were    very    pool 

•  jiipared    t-«    0V  '    t'»    their   aeipn.'iv 

Their  very  best  luxiii:'  Mimerated,  excej), 

Hinong    our   meai    ->t    and    cnmmone.st    possessions ;    and,  withoul 


248  SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 

being  better  men,  our  humblest  eiti/ens  enjoy  a  domestic  con 
(lition  which  would  have  made  the  mouths  to  water,  with  eipial 
delight  and  envy,  of  tlie  proudest  hanm*  of  the  u-iys  of  Queen 
Bess  and  Harry  the  Eighth.  AVhat  would  either  of  t: 
princes  have  given  to  enjoy  h-,>s  sucli  as  Captain  Berrv  gave  us 
yesterday,  and  the  more  various  luxuries  which  (I  see  it  in  his 
foce)  he  proposes  to  give  us  to-day!  A\ "hat  would  the 
potentates,  peers  and  princes  of  Europe,  even  ,-.t  this  dav,  give 
to  be  always  sure  of  sue] i  oysters  as  expose  themselves,  with  all 
their  wealth  of  fat,  buried  to  the  chin,  about  the  entrances  ot 
our  harbors,  from  Sandy  Hook  to  Savannah,  in  preference  to 
the  contracted  fibres  and  coppcry-Hav-.i  d  substitutes  which 
they  are  forced  to  swallow,  hisV.vi  of  the  same  admirable,  and 
benevolent  ocean  vegetable,  as  we  commonly  enjoy  it  1 
And  what  —  0  Americans! — can  they  offer  in  exchange  for 
the  pear,  the  peach,  the  apple  and  the  melon,  such  as  1  already 
taste,  in  anticipation  of  events  which  shall  take  place  in  this 
v-ry  vessel  some  two  hours  hence  I  It  is  enough,  without  enu- 
nerating  more  of  our  possessions  —  possessions  in  the  common 
enjoyment  of  our  people  —  that  1  insist  on  the  national  prosperity. 

"  Hut  this  is  our  misfortune.  We  are  *<m  prosperous.  V. 
like  Jesliuran,"bf  whom  we  read  in  tin.  blessed  volume,  who, 
waxing  too  fat,  finally  kicked.  Fatal  kicking  !  Foolish  Jeshu- 
r.Mi  !  In  our  fatness — in  -vir  excess  of  g<>m!  fortune  —  we  are 
kicking  ungraciously,  like,  him;  and  we  shall  most  likely,  after 
the  fashion'  of  the  ungracious  cow  of  which  the  Book  of  Fables 
tells  us.  kick  over  the  bucket  after  we  have  fairly  filled  it. 

"  We  admit  the  prosperity  :  but  where's  the  peace?  It  is  in 
tl  e  very  midst  of  this  prosperity  that  we  hear  terrible  cries  IV.. m 
i  onion  of  our  country,  where  they  have  not  yet  well  succeeded 
i  i-:  .-'ii:g  off  the  skins  of  their  original  savage  condition.  There's 
llr.lly  Benton,  and  Big-Bone  Allen,  and  Humbug  Houston,  and 
J.ittle  Lion  Douglass,  and  Snaky-Stealing  Scward,  and  Copper- 
'aptain  ('ass,  and  a  dozen  others,  of  bigger  breeches  than 
Drains,  and  mightier  maws  than  muscles  —  hear  how  they  sev 
erally  roar  and  squeak  !*  One  would  -_ut  the  carotid  of  corpu- 

Of  course  we   an-    not    rc.ijHUisiMf    tm    tin-    complimentary    <  Mi;n:it<\>    in  n- 
fC  our  uji-ii  of  rnailv,  by  our  Al;il);nn;i   orator.      \V»-   an-    s;:np!\ 
and  taking-  down  his  language,  verbatim  <l  literatim 


BOO  LBS. 


:1  ;   another  would    swallow  tlio   in'im^     f    Mexico; 
n  third  would  foul  tin-  South,  M    fourth  the  North  ;    and  they 
all    for    kicking   up  a    pretty  d  -  d    fuss    uenerally,  expecting 
the  people  t»  lout  tin-  Mil. 

\nd  n«»w,  with  such  an  infernal  h'lM-Mh  in  our  oars,  on  every 
side,  from    the.  e    h..inh-l.Sa.; 

We   (TV  'peace1  when   there   is  no   peace!     Their  cr 
'  war.'  even  in  the  midst  of  prosperity,  and  when   short 

a  pound  !      And  war  for  what  ?      As  if  we  had 

_:vat  deal  to..    much.  shipma; 
lo  not    kn<",v  what    to   do  witli    it.  and    employ  Mich  hlather- 

these    to   take  :  it  into  their  ridimhm-    keep-is;:.      1 
many  words,  shipmates,  tliese    1;  Hahyh»n.  representing 

;is  jic.«r  lnuiliics  nf  America,  are  each  of  them,  professedly  <.n  nur 
pnrt,  playing  the  part  of  Jeshnran  the  Fat  !  They  are  kicking 
d  will,  1  trust,  he  kicked  over  in  the  end,  and  hefore 
the.  end.  and  kicked  out  of  sight,  hy  that  always-avenL'ini; 
tiny,  which  interposes,  at  the  right  moment,  to  settle'  acc.mnts 
\\ith  hl'n-khead  >t.  id  Idockhead  nations. 

"  N..W,  how  are  v,  ,•  >e  «>nr  own  >hare  of  this  jmi. 

-huran  I      Who  .shall  say  how  long  it  will  he  hefore  \\ 
our   heel>   apiiiM    the    l.ucket,  and    see    the   green    lields  ..f   our 

red  witli  the  waste  of  our  prosperities  !     (I'm  n-.t 

lie  h'gitiniaey  of  this  figure,  hut  can  '  IV  lo  ana- 

it  hereafter   hefore   the    Literary  Cluh  ..f 

Charleston,  which  is  said    to  he  equally  famous    f..r  i;s  fact-  and 
B  long    U    it  is  doulitfid  if   we  -h;  this 

the    future    i>    still    ///    N 
dor, 

douht   if  our  pi'ovj  :'dy, 

it  is  not  yet  time  either  for  its  history  or  • 
••  I'.ut  for  our  p.  -ace,  nur  harmony,  if  ii"t 
•  I'M  lieving    ourselves    :  all    do   . 

verate,  and    t1 

.-hould  not  he  ours.     But  this  harmony  is  ot'  diilicul:  a-  .|>:'sitio'i 
\ve  nj'i.-t   '  M  hat  is  harm. 

't    down    to   dinner  '    \^   in  :  . 

•ttation  that  harmony  will  pi  ••!•  the  hamjiie: 

K.1    reason  why  it  should    he   otherwise.      Theie  \\'M    hf 


250  /iiwAiii)  no! 


ample  at  -he  feast  for  all  tlic  parties.  Each  will  get  enough, 
and  probably  of  the  very  commodity  he  desires.  If  he  does 
not,  it  is  only  because  there  is  not  quite  enough  for  all,  and  the 
dish  happens  to  he  nearer  me  than  him  !  Nevertheless,  we 
take  for  granted  that  harmony  will  furnish  the  atmosphere  of 
the.  feast  to-day.  It  will  render  grateful  the  various  dishes  of 
which  we  partake.  It  will  assist  us  in  their  digestion.  AVe. 
will  eat  and  drink  in  good  humor,  and  rise  in  good  spirits. 
Each  one  will  entertain  and  express  his  proper  sentiments,  and, 
as  our  mutual  comfort  will  depend  upon  a  gentlemanly  conduct, 
so  no  one  will  say  or  do  anything  to  make  his  neighbor  feel 
uncomfortable.  If  you  know  that  the  person  next  to  you  has 
a  corn  upon  his  toe,  you  will  not  tread  on  it  in  order  to  compel 
his  attention  to  your  wants;  and,  should  you  see  another  about 
to  swallow  a  moderate  mouthful  of  cauliflower,  it  will  not  bo 
your  care  to  whisper  a  doubt  if  the  disquiet  of  the  person  in  the 
adjoining  cabin  was  not  clearly  the  result  of  cabbage  and  chol 
era.  This  forbearance  is  the  secret  of  harmony,  and  I  trust  we 
shall  this  day  enjoy  it  as  the  best  salad  to  our  banquet. 

"  And  now,  how  much  of  this  harmony  is  possessed  among 
our  people  in  the  states?  Are  you  satisfied  that  there  is  any 
such  feeling  prevailing  in  the  nation,  when,  in  all  its  states,  it 
•mhlcs  in  celebration  of  this  common  anniversary  ?  Hearken 
to  the  commentary.  Do  yon  hear  that  mighty  hdlalaloo  in  the 
East?  It  comes  from  Massachusetts  I5ay.  It  is  just  such  an 
u'>roar  as  we  have  heard  from  that  quarter  for  a  hundred  years. 
1  :,  it  fell  upon  the  ears  of  the  people  of  Mohegan,  and  Nar- 
aganset,  and  Coneaught  choke  —  the  breechless  Indians  —  and 
it  meant  massacre.  The  Indians  perished  by  .sword-cut  and 
a'-quehus-.sh'it  and  traffic  —  scalps  being  bought  at  live  shilli 
}>•  r  head,  till  the  coinmodi;;  >o  scarce  for  even  cupidity 

to    make,   capital    with.      V;»ry    brief,  however,  was    the    interval 
that    followed.      Our    Yankee,    brethren    are    not    the,   people    to 
•ighbors  to   be  i'-ng   at   peace,  or   to    be  themselves 
pacific.      Very    soon,  and    there    was    am-ther   Jn-llnlmloo  !      The 
victims  this  time  were  the  Quakers;    and  thev  had  to  flv  from  a 
u  of  so  much  prosperity,  using   their   best    legs,  in    order  to 
KC,  p  their  simple  scalps  secure  under  their  broad  brims.      What 
was  to  be  done  to  find    food   for  the  devouring  appetite  of  these 


-.".  1 

>    as  to  » 

thcii  .  and    rarely  suflered    tlioir  virtues  to 

peril    their  own    >kin>.      They  turned    next,   full-inou'hed,   i 

pon  thi    •     :  •    .     A    • ' 

—  ami,  unluckily, 
tlu-   <le\  ' 

g   them    ;i  1    to   br  witches;   they  v. 

cut  «  :  i  ami  fire,  until  the  land  was  purged  of  all  but  its 

privileged  .-inn- 

•  which   these   iT'-dly  savages  gave 
The  poor  Gothamites  next  fell 
inple  Dutchmen   of   Manhattan  v 
:.vumb  under  the  just  wrath  of  the  God-appointed  ; 
And  m>w,  all  the  nri.irhhnrinjr  peoples  hein^  properly  snhj«-. 

WAS   raided    a^raiu>t   the  cavaliers  who  ihvidt  soutl) 

of    ti. 

"Tl.-  ancient   enemies  of  the   saints    in    the  mother- 

coin.-  ,1   he-en  reasons  hitherto  tor  leaving  them 

undi-  'I'hey  had  : 

[fl    hr-'U-'ht    them   hy  t! 
i  mil    did   not  then   know  that  the  seller  could 

to  she  property  he  >.>ld.      A>  hm^  as  our  • 
:mnrd  to  lniy  the  African,  the   saints  hinted  imt  a  word 
!    the    impel!'  f   the    title.      It    wa>    only    when    he 

.   1'tiy  ai  •  f  the  commodity  that    1.  Id   it 

•i. 

1   no\\   the    hellal  i  11   those  having 

d>  in    po~  !  '   el  this   JnllnlHiliM  > 

1  don't   you   think   there  will   be  an 

Mch  will  tend  still  more  to 
And,  with   these  wild  clamors  in  our 
ide,  wlin  is  it  that 

\m    1    to 
I  .'      Shall    my  lip- 

•.d    persuades    nobody,  ami 
M  '.  mv    hrcthrrn  !      Lrt  k   the 

.  no    hai  :  1111!'..,    .1- 

' 

tbe 


-•'->-  SOUTHWARD    HO! 

recognition  of  all  those  first  principles  which  led  our  ancestors 
int.-  a  league,  offensive  ami  defensive,  for  a  common  object  and 
vi'h  a  common  necessity,  — the  breach  will  widen  and  widen, 
until  a  great  g-ulf  shall  spread  between  us,  above  which  Death 
will  hang  over  with  his  black  banner;  and  across  which  terror, 
and  strife,  and  vengeance,  shall  send  their  unremitting  bolts  of 
htorm  and  fire!  Let  us  pray,  my  brethren,  that,  in  regard  to 
our  harmony,  we  arrest  our  prosperity,  lest  we  grew  too  frit,  and 
kick  like  Jesluirar.  !" 

Here  a  pause.  Our  orator  was  covered  with  perspiration. 
Mimed  thrice  with  emphasis.  He  had  reached  a  climax. 
The  Texan  \\  as  sleeping  audibly,  giving  forth  sounds  like  an 
old  alligator  at  the  opening  of  the  spring.  Our  few  Yankee 
voyagers  had  arisen  some  time  before,  not  liking  the  atmosphere, 
and  were  now  to  be  seen  with  the  telescope,  looking  out  into 
the  Kast  for  dry  land.  The  orator  himself  seemed  satisfied 
with  the  prospect.  He  saw  that  his  audience  were  in  the  right 
mood  to  he  awakened.  lie  wiped  his  face  accordingly,  put  on 
l,i>  green  spectacles,  and  in  a  theatrical  aside  to  the  steward  — 
"  Hem  !  .steward!  another  touch  of  the  snake  and  tiger." 
I  do  not  know  that  I  need  give  any  more  of  this  curious  ora 
tion,  which  was  continued  to  much  greater  length,  and  discussed 
a  most  amusing  variety  of  subjects,  not  omitting  that  of  Com 
munism,  and  Woman's  Rights.  Know-Xothingism  had  not  then 
1  ecome  a  fixed  fact  in  the  political  atmosphere,  or  it  would, 
probably,  have  found  consideration  also. 

mixed    were    the    feelings   with  which    the   performance 
ted.     Our  secessionists  from   South  Carolina  and  other 
states,  of  whom  there  were  several  on  board,  were  quite  satis 
fied  with   our  orator's  view  of  the,  case;    but  our  Yankees,  reap 
ing  when  it  was  fairly  over,  were  not  in  the  mood  to  suffer 
il  t'i  escape  without    sharp    censure.      The    orator  was   supposed 
ivc   made    a   very  unfair  use   of  the  occasion  and  of   his 
own    •.])}> .-hitmenf.      But  the   orator  was  not  a  customer   with 
whom    it  was   politic  to  trifle;    and  as   he  seemed   disposed   to 
show  bis   teeth,  more    thnn    once,  the   discussion  was  seasonably 
arrested  by  the  call  to  dinner. 

They    live    well    on    the    steamers    between   New   York    and 
Charles*  •:!).      Both  cities  know  something  of  good  living,  and  io 


Til!          '  -    d 

neither   :  «?   turtle    likely  to  'he 

!  of  aider  h..nored    in  "ither  ?      Our  c 

pro  verhi  ally  a 

' 

has  ni;nle  hin  imirahle, 

our  dinne;  .'.  orlhy  of   I 

committee   «-f  an  I  ita   had    duly  attended    to   their 

The  time  at  length  arrive,!  f:»r  that  intei'-hanjie  of  mortal 
mental    D  hieh  the    liter;: 

:  and  the  How  of  soul  ;  and  sentiment  was  to  1. 
dul-ed.     Our    excellent  captain,  tt   in  all  his  h»ok<,  li ••m- 

in    his    oye,    in    every    action    di-nity  and    -race,  liliin- 
ly  inatrnn,  one  of   our  few  lady-pa 
gers  — 

••  The  ph-asure  <>f  a  jjlass  of  wine  with  you,  madam." 
"Thank  you,  captain,  hut   1  DCV6I  take  wine."  was  the  re] 
"Perfectly    ri-ht,    madam,"    put    in    the    oratOI    "f    the    d 

.u-ii  wiitten    that  wine  cheereth    the  heart  of  man  it  is  no- 
vhi-re    said    that    it  will    have    any   such    eilect    .;n    the   heart   of 
in." 

Xton  little  hy-play  after  this,  between  the  orat 

lady,  the  latt.  r  iMokiui:  and  speaking  as  if  half  di>p 

the  wiiu-.  it'  only  to   pn-vt-   that    itfl   ellects   mi^ht   he  as 
cheering  to  the  one  sex  as  to  the  other.      But  the  capt, 

.itlemen." 

Al!  obi  led  tli»'  v'; 

1.    •/'/;,    ,  debraUl—  "ly  as  the  memorial 

nation*,  which  wastoguatav  -tin, i 

JUM,  tual  rights,  to  all. 

ruption  :  I  shall  p>  on  with  ' 

. —  Hither  a  hond  for  ;d     01  a  DOI 

N    .   -uicly  such  a  weh  ai  will   hind  ;  -  ilin-ugh 

which  ti  without  n-straint. 

:;.    T  -    I ' .•-- -'i 

binned  to  he,  in  the  lan^ua^e  of  >],..  unity  and 

married  calm  " — 


254  SOUTHWARD  no! 

4.  The  Slave   States  of  the  South. —  The  conservators  of  the 
I>eaco,  where  faction  never  rears  its  head,  where  mobs  tear  not 
down,  uor  burn,  nor  destroy  the  hopes  and  habitations  of  the 

•I'ful  and  the  weak,  and  where  reverence  in  the  people  is 
still  the  guarantee  for  a  gentleman  in  the  politician. 

5.  The  Agriculture  of  the  South. —  The   source  of  peace,  ln.s- 
pitality,  and  those  household  virtues,  which  never  find  in  business 
a  pica  against  society. 

G.    Cotton  ami  Cunt. —  The  grand  pacificators,  which  in  curt-r 
ing  and  lining  the  poor  of  Europe,  bind  their  hands  with  pt 
and  fill  their  hearts  with  gratitude. 

7.  Watlungion, —  A  Southron  aiid  a  slaveholder — pious  with 
out  cant;    noble  without  arrogance  ;   brave  without    boast;   and 
generous  without  ostentation  ! — When  the  Fivc-Soilers  shall  be 
able  to  boast  of  such  a  citizen  and  son,  it  may  be  po>sible  to  be 
lieve  them  honest  in  their  declarations,  and  unselfish  in  their  ob 
jects —  but  not  till  then. 

8.  The  President  of  (he  U/tittd  States. —  We  honor  authority 
and  place  ;    but  let  authority  see  that  it  do  honor  to  itself.     Let 
no  man  suppose  that  he  shall  play  the  puppet  in  his  neighbors' 
hands,  and  not  only  escape  the  shame  thereof,  but  win  the  good 
name  of  skili'ul  play  for  himself.     lie  who  would  wield  authority, 
must  show  himself  capable  of  rule;  and  he  who  has  famously 
borne  the  sword,  must  beware  lest  other  men  should  use  his 
truncheon. 

[Par  Parenthcsc. —  Brave  old  Zachary  Taylor  was  the  reign 
ing  president  when  this  toast  was  given^ 

9.  The  Nat  in-  Mad*. — Yours  or  mine,  no  matter.    We  are  all 
linked  indissolubly,  by  a  strange  and  more  than  mortal  tie,  to  a 
special  soil.     To   that   soil   does  the  true  soul  always  hold  itself 
firmly  bound  in  a  fidelity  that  loves  to  toil  in  its  improvement, 
and  will  gladly  die  in  its  defence. 

10.  Woman.  —  Whether  as   the  virgin   she  wins  our  fancies, 
as  the  wife  our  hearts,  a>  the  mother  our  loyalty,  still,  in  all,  the 
apiM-inted   angel   to  minuter  to  our  mres,  to   inspirit  our  h<  , 

lo  train  our  sensibilities,  and  to  lift  our  sympathies,  to  the  pure, 
fli"  gentle,  the  delicate,  and   the  true. 

1).    Our   Man-*. —  L ike  «>nr  children,  minors  in   the  hands  of 
tin-  guardian,  to  be,  protected  and  trained  to  usefulness  and  virtue 


_ti,  iience  —  love  and  loyalty 

lid    governed  : 
rule  that  .simply  restrain  of  humanity. 

jv.    <  .  -A  good  hushand  for  such  a 

wife.-  -  !.•  .m  it,  1m  1 

hoil  up,  hit  nc  ''•*   li"t  water  —  and  all  the 

in   smoke.      If  she  keeps  up  a  racket  he 
low.  he    at    least,  trumpet    in  hand,  walks  the 
ihe  i  Mav  he  ft]  p  her  to  her  hearings,  and  n 

MI  Her  hei  DM   other  «,ld  woman,  to 

come  ,  ing. 

Here,  the  captain,  overcome  with  emotion,  his  face  covered 
with  hlu-i  t  the  fierce  plaudits  of  the  tahle 

suicided,  replied    in    the   most  eloquent   language  to  the  compli 
ment,  concluding  thus  — 

\nd  while  I  remain  the  master  of  this  goodly  creature,  gei, 
tlemen,  let  me  a— lire  you.  she  will  never  discredit  her  breeding, 
certainly  never  while  she  continues  to  hear  such  children 

•he  liono;  i  •    iitlem.'ii,  1  give  you  — 

"7V//-  L\itr--  Equally  preci<  us  as  fail  weather,  fair  play,  and 
fair  women.  AVhile  deriving  from  these  the  hest  welfare  of  the 
heart,  may  we  he  called  upon  to  hid  them  fartu'tll  only  when 
it  is  decreed  that  we  shallyY 

The  regular  toastfl  were  resuim  d  and  concluded  with  the  thir 
teenth  : — 

l><iy—  He   hath   put    the  chisel  to  tlie 

\\vdge  to  the  split,  the  hammer  to  the  bead,  the  saddle 

.m    the    h<.i>e.      II  .    ,ken  well    and  wisely,  and   decently, 

without    the    /ti-//n/m/i.n   which    usually    marks  a   fourth  of  July 

oiation.      Let    him    he    honored  with  the  mark  of  greatness  and 

if  ti  place    in    senate  and  assembly  which  it  would    not 

•  •dit    a    wise    man    and    a   gentft'inan    to    occupy,   send    him 

thither. 

( )ur  orator  was  again  on  hi.^  feet,  llis  green  spectacles  under 
th.'in  at  the  meiit  —  and,  such  a  speech  in  reply:  — 

there   is   ne    reporting   it,  hut  if  Alahama  does  not  yet  ring  with 
the    voice    "f  that    nondescript,  then    hath   she   lost  tin 

It  will    he    seen    that,    thus    far.  the    secessionist s    1 


256  SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 

much  had  the  affair  in  their  own  hands:  and  our  brethren  north 
•  >f  the  Hudson  were  not  in  the.  best  of  humors  —  were  somewhat 
ri/t-il,  indeed,  by  the  character  of  the  oration  and  the  toasts  that 
followed.  They  attempted  to  reply,  in  the  volunteer  toasts 
u'.k-li  they  offered,  quoting  Daniel  Webster  and  others  very 
fr<v!y,  but  without  much  visible  effect.  For  once,  the  majority 
was  against  them.  Our  space  will  not  suffice  to  report  their 
ti.a-ts,  the  answers,  or  the  discussions  which  ensued;  but  it  is 
doing  them  justice  only  to  give  one  of  the  several  volunteer 
ga  which  were  sung  in  honor  of  the  Union.  The  secession 
ists  had  a  poet  on  board,  but  his  muse  was  suffering  from  sea 
sickness  or  some  other  malady.  She  was  certainly  reluclant 
and  made  no  sign.  The  lay  that  I  give  might  have  issued  from 
the  mint  of  Joel  Barlow  for  aught  I  know  :  — 

.  MOM    AND    LIBKUTY. 

[Sung  by  a  tall  person  in  nankin  pantaloon*.  1 

Oil,  dear  was  the  hour  when  Liberty  rose, 

And  gallant  the  freemen  who  came  at  her  ca  i 
Sublime  was  the  vengeance  she  took  on  her  foes, 

And  rhighty  the  blow  which  released  her  from  thmll 
Down  from  its  realm  of  blue, 
Proudly  our  Eagle  flew, 
Perched  on  our  banner  and  guided  us  on ; 
While  from  afar  they  came, 
Brave  souls  with  noble  aim, 
Where  at  the  price  ofblood,  freedom  was  wooed  and  won 

Ours  was  no  trophy,  the  conquest  of  power, 

Heedless  if  triumph  were  sanctioned  by  right 
\\ •    t  ;nk  ii. »t  up  arms  in  infuriate  hour 

Nor  thirsting  for  spoil  hurried  forth  to  the  fight: 

Led  by  the  noblest  cause, 

Fighting  for  rights  and  laws, 
Panting  for  freedom  out  fathers  went  forth; 

Nor  for  themselves  alone, 

Struck  they  the  tyrant  down, 
They  fought  and  they  bled  for  the  nations  of  earth. 

'.:•<!  deai-  tie  the  freedom  they  won  for  our  nation, 
•_nd  linn  be  the  Union  that  freedom  secures; 
•    no  ptiricidfl  hand  seek  tn  pluck  from  ita  station 
The  fia>:  that  stream*  forth  in  its  pride  from  our  shore* 

May  no  »»n  of  our  Hoil, 
In  inioriou^  i«il. 


TII  .i.K  25T 

il  l) 
1     ' 

•  1  1  if. 

Pretty  si:  i  in-;  of  this  ode   on   the   part   oi 

• 
"It  lialts  and  hulddes  like  the  I'uiuii  i!>elf,"  Mas  the  sneei  of 

>Tie. 

"In   truth,"  said   aiit'ther.  "it   is  ominous,  lacking,  here  auo 
Uiere.  u-y  feet." 

.  like   th"M'  of  u-nvernnuMit  are  admirably  un- 


In   short,   political!  ally,   morally,  ami    rnnsicallv,   fl.« 

ntlf    was    (icclanMl,    l.y    a    jmiisUy    jircsj-nt,   t<«    I-.-    . 
uithiii    jmctic    rulr.  as   it    was   ilrcidrdl  y   oili-nns.      At   thi.-  —  un 
kind'  t    all  —  the    unliaj'j  —  antlmr.   tOO,  i^-riiapc 

—  »va»   suddenly  M-i/t'd  with  BdA-ncknesSi  and  (!'•  d  o* 

deck.      Tin-  day  was  at  its  do8€  flfl  \\<l  h-it   .'    •  t.ih  <T.!ne 

t-  PI  ;li  i,,  i'iij«.y  a  d(dici«nfcj  suiiM-t,  and   1   was   tiicn   olHc-nliy  - 

that  a  >t»rv  w  ••»•(!    \'\-»  \\    ni"    that    ni^ht.      IV'.y 

had    conic.      The    h:d'n--  i'.,,  i  .1:  ly    jdc  j..--d    to   con:'' 

that    1   should  irivc  tlu-m  a  talc  of  tin-  R*  v«d'i!i'-.:\  u  ftp] 
to  the  day.  and.  after   a    line  d;>[day  of  tir-w. 
ourselves   in   the   usual  circle,  and  I  delivered 
Itiwinir  narrative,  which    1   n-  iio   know  " 

•  nnded  «»n  fact  :  — 

Tli.  :  ill:   I'.ATTLB 

AT'      •  IK  IN 

C  II  A  P  T  K  11     I 

Ti     tti  •    r-ader  \vln«,  in  '"the  facts  i.i  0121  natnii.-u 

lirll    cnnfine  !:::.:-(•!('  n:.]y  t  '.  ;  whir.li  U 

und  i:Ml:  •    tliat  he  read^  n  i 

fi'iii  iii    ;-.    i:r.'  .:?]y    nntnitlr 

early  hist.  air'  li    little   tr«  ;ihh- 

after  detail.     A  L: 

satisfied  \\itl.  ll   after  th 

vh'u-h  sh«>uld  -i\r  ri»    '  r  into  the  latent  c. 


ROUT  no ! 

which  gave  b'-t '•  fo  many  of  its  actions.  lit  the  history  of  South 
Carolina,  for  ev-nnple,  (which  was  one  brimming  with  details  and 
teeming  with  incidents,)  there  is  little  to  be.  found  —  as  the  history 
is  at  present  written  —  which  shall  afford  to  the  reader  even  a 
ib!y  con  '  idea  of  the  domestic  character  of  the  struggle. 
We  know  well  enough  that  the  people  of  the  colony  were  of  a 
•insularly  }U'"TM^VII(>MU>  eh.-iractor;  that  the  settlers  of  the  1- 

n-y  wen-  chiefly  Cavaliers  and  Huguenots,  or  French  Vrot- 
itfl,  and   that    the  interior  was  divided  into  groups,  or  settle- 
:    S-..iti-h,  Irish,  and  German.     But  there  is  little  in  the 
-)>  >w  that,  of  these,  the  sentiment  was  mixed  and  va- 
-  without  degree;   and  that,  with  the  exception  of  the  par- 
be  lower  country,  which  belonged  almost  wholly,  though 
i"difirat!ons,  4o  the  English  church,  it  was  scarcely 
i  le  to  find  any  neighborhood,  in  which  there  was  not  some- 
.;  like  a  civil  wr.     The  interior  and  mountain  settlements 
\verf.  -'i.-illy  divided  and  nearly  equally,  between  their  at- 

.-.•HV.its  to  the  crown  and  the  colony.  A  Scotch  settlement 
would  make  an  almost  uniform  showing  in  behalf  of  the  English 
authority  —  one,  two,  or  three  persons,  at  the  utmost,  being  of 
the  revolutionary  \n  Irish  settlement  (wholly  Prot*  sl 

ant,  b:  :;  rei:;<"i:r"-nMl)  would  be  as  unanimous  for  the  colonial 
mov.v.)--:ii3  ;  vhiie  llie  Germ, in.,  were  but  too  frequently  for  the 
moii  bat  being  represented  by  a  prince  of  Hanover. 

The  German  settlements  mostly  lay  in  the  Forks  of  Edisto,  and 
alcng  the  Congare«-s       The  business  of  the  present   narrative, 
will  be  confined  chiefly  to  this  peopl.-.     They  had  settled  in  ra 
ther  large  families  in  Carolina,  and  this  only  a  short  period  be 
fore  the  Revolution.     They  had   been   ^ont    Dut,  in  frequent  in 
stances,  at   the  expense   of  the   crown,  and  this  contributed  to 
i      their   allegiance.     They  wen-   ignorant  of  the  nature  of 
th^i  skuggle,  and,  being  wholly  agricultural,  could  not  well  be 
.  .  natrre  of  grieva'accs  which  fell  chiefly  upon  commerce 
tb     s.-.-i  b..ard.     Novr,  in  Carolina,  and  perhaps  throughout 
•le  south,  the  Revolution  not  only  originated  with  the 
it  With   the   educated  portions  of  the 
It  was  what  may  ne  termed  the  gentlemen  of  the  col 
•')>— its    wealth    and    anM<uT;u-y — with    whom    and    which    the 
.it    began      and 'though  it  i^  n<  t  our  purpose    here   to  go 


;:ICA. 

;<1  that  the  motives  to  the  revolution- 
ted    with    tli'-m.  in   causes  totallv 

from    tli"  the    patri  le    of 

pride    of  pl.v.v,  <•'"  ;•    and    of 

intellect,  and   not  provoked   the, 

•utry  of  th"  south  into  the.  fi-.-ld. 

It  \vav  tin-  earned  (\c>\  ntry,  at    the   dawning  of 

lli«-  Revolution,  to  conciliate    the  various    people  of  the   int. 
•'fthi1  struggle,  then-lore,  an  attempt  was  ; 

to  iniluence  the  (.Jeniian  population  along  the  Kdisto  and  f'onga- 
:nong   them    two    influential    men  of  their  own 
country,  whose   fidelity  to  the  /A 

pute.      lint  these  men  were  unsuccessful.      They  prohahly  made 

few  Converts.       It    i>    enough,  if  we  urn-  a  ^limpx-  at  the  course 

lilies  in  a  -:n-le  h<.u.seh«)Ll  in  tli'1  Fork>  ..f  Kiii^     * 

er   and    Felix    Lou--   ai  rived    at    the    habitation  of 

rrick  Said.,  <m    the  ?th  day  of  July,  1  ;?;"».      Frederick  was 

an  hoiie-t   I)uudiman  of  good  character,  hut  not  the  man  for  rev 

olution.    ii,  •  home  on  the  arrival  of  the  commissioners, 

hut  his  good  r/-<iir,  Minnicki-r  Said),  ^ave  them  a  gracious  recep 
tion.  She  was  a  go  nl  hmisrkreper,  with  hut  one  daughter  ;  a 
tall,  silent  girl,  with  whom  the  commissioners  had  no  < 

Hut  Mim  bb,  had  *£i  been  applied  to,  might  have  proved 

a  better  revolutionist  than  her  gpouse.      1  cert/UU,  as  tho 

ill  show,  that   Frede;ira  S;(l  '.,  the  daiigLtei.  \\  as  of  the, 
right    'naterial.      Slu-  wa>    a    calm,  ;;i,d    s\\  idly-minded    da 
not  much  skilled  in  x.eiety  or  lio^ks  —  f«.;-  tho 

;    learning   in    the   settl.  :\^  earl 

the   native   mind  1f|  ,ind   solid,  an<l   her  natural 

unsophisticated,  were  pore  and  eleva 

in.-tincts,   a    thousand    things    which    other   in::. 

b  through  the  he^t  education.    She  wa>  what  we  call,  a  [ 
girl,  l-.ya!,  \\itli  a  warm  heart,  a  sound  judgment,  and  a  m« 

:de    behavior,      \\"e    are    not    seeking,  he    it    rememhei.        t 

,;  ted  Miiman.       SllO  WRS  yOU: 
-eventeen  at  this  jieii-.d  —  hut  just  at   the  season  when  the 


I'-il    tn'in    tin-    lirnricliint;  "I    tin-  i;  Min  point  — 

•  "    ''"'    t«*'    an:  :     ,.k»,    uiui    .... 


200  .UD  HO! 

woman  instincts  are  most  lively,  and  h< 
quick  to  .ill  that  is  generous  and  noble.  She  made  tl 
and  prepared  the  supper  for  the  guedts  that  evening,  and  tl.iy 
'•u!.  little-  .  f  1.-;,-  ;ill  the  e\  ening  feast  had  been  adjusted,  and 
was  about  tu  he  dlJCtbfScd.  I'y  this  ii:i;e  old  Frederick  Sabb  had 
made  his  appearaneo.  lie  came,  lumping  with  liim  three  ol 
neighbors,  who  were  eager  to  hear  the  news.  They  were  fol- 
lowed,  after  a  little  .pare,  and  in  season  ior  Mipp«-r.  hy  another 
guest  —  perhaps  the  most  welcome  of  all  to  the  old  couple  —  in 
the  person  of  a  favorite  preacher  of  the  methodist  persuasion. 
Elijah  Fields,  was  a  man  of  middle  age,  of  a  vigorous  mind  and 
body,  earnest  and  impetuous,  and  represented,  with  considerable 
efficiency,  in  his  primitive,  province,  the  usefulness  of  a  church 
which,  perhaps,  more  than  any  other,  has  mode-lied  itselt 
that  of  the,  Primitive  Fathers.  ^Ve  shall  see  more  of  Elijah 
Fields  hereafter.  In  the  course  of  the  evening,  three  other 
neighbors  made  their  appearance  at  the  farmhouse  of  Frederick 
Sabb ;  making  a  goodly  congregation  upon  which  to  exercise 
the  political  abilities  of  Me>.-rs.  Wagner  and  Long.  They  were 
all  tilled  with  a  more,  or  less  livelv  cnriositv  in  regard  to  the. 
events  which  were  in  progress,  and  the  objects  which  the  com 
missioners  had  in  view.  Four  of  these  neighbors  were  of  the 
same  good  old  German  stock  with  Frederick  Sabb,  but  two  of 
them  were  natives  of  the  country,  from  the  east  bank  of  the 
north  branch  of  the  Kdisto,  who  happened  to  be  on  a  visit  to  an 
adjoining  farmstead.  The  seventh  of  these  was  a  young  Scotch 
man,  from  Cros-  Creek,  North  Carolina,  who  had  already  declar 
ed  himself  verv  freely  against  the  revolutionary  movement.  He 
had,  indeed,  gone  so  far  as  to  designate  the  patriots  as  tra. 
deserving  a  short  curd  and  a  sudden  shrift  ;  and  this  opinion  was 
expressed  with  a  degree  of  temper  which  did  not  leave  it  doubt 
ful  that  he  would  gladly  seek  an  opportunity  to  declare  hini>elt 
offensively  in  the  presence  of  the,  commissioners.  hall 

see  more,  of  this  person  hereafter,  it  is  only  right  that  we  should 
introdure  l:i::i  formally  to  the  reader  as  Matthew  or  Mat  Ihinbar. 
-.cut  much  more  frequently  by  the  name  of  Mat    than   Mat- 
••.ay  also  mention  that   he  was  not   entirely  a  politi- 
i  A  feeling  of  a  tender  nature  brought   him  to  the  dwelling 

of  old  Sabb.  upon  who>.    daughter,  I  ivderiea,  our  young  Scotch 


261 

vith  hungry  eyes.     And   public  con- 

;  it  n>. 

.!    Ihinhar  \\as    not  uitlmut    a    rival.      Richard  Ood 
the   «mly  native  of  the  country  piesent,  I'ar.-on    Field. 

:  R  tall,  manly  youth,  ahout    the   same   age  with 

Dunhar.      IV'  ''•    many    advantages   over   the    1. 

.•ularlv  in  respect  {«•  person.     Tall,  while  Dunhar  v 
with  a  hands.. nit-   lace,  line   eye,  ami   a  luxuriant   shock  of  hair, 
ami  a  m..  ''  the  same  color,  which  gave  ipiite  a  mar 

tial  appearance   t  •   his  features,  otherwise  effeminate —  the  B] 
tat.»r   im-vitalilv  c-»ntrastril    him    with    his   rival,  whose    lea! 

;'.iir.  hut  iiii'Xjiri'.s>ivi- ;   and  whose-    hair   and    heard 
i'iiihinu   and  unmitigated  red.     'i'lmngh  sti»\it 

of  limh,  vigorous  and  athh-lic.  Mat    Hunhar  was  awkward  in  his 

.t    wanting   in   di-nity    of  hearing.      Mentally,  tho 

('••niter  was  not  so  maiiifc-st.      lie  v*a^   more   (lifti- 

tle  than  the  other,  who,  experienced  hy  travel,  hold 

and  .  :iihited  himself  at  h-ss  than  his  real  worth. 

.-  j.rtdiininaries  must  suffice.      it    is   perhaps  scarcely  in 

rica  Sahh  made  //<•/  compaii-'iis  hetwcen 

urived  at  one  conclufion.    A  girl  of  com 

mon    instincts    rarely  fails   to    discover  whe:li<  hi   or 

did  the  same  in>tincts  leads  her  generally  to  determine  hc- 
0  livals  long  in  aih'ance  of  the  moment  u  hen  they  pr«.j 
Rici  .  tainly  her  favorite  —  though  her  priui. 

.ing  kind  which  enahled    her  easily  to  keep  to 

:rt    of    hi    .  ..re. 

(  )!      •  1  )utch  hospitality.    1 1  - 

and  ilaughter  were   excellent    I,  md    the    ; 

•  '.l\i  gond  thin-.-  f.«r  supper.     Butter,  milk,  and 

anting;    pones   and    Koe-caL 

-howing,  and  a  few  hroiled  chickens,  and  a  largo  piat- 
•ilrd  ham,  in   the    centre   of   the   tahle,  were  as  imuh  a 

!y  day,  in  this  fa\ 

them   an.  w.     Of  course,  supper  was 

<mmis*ioneis    opened    thfir 
Tlicn  the  good  nuir  toitk    1.  ,  knitting  in  hand. 

i.ip,  at  the  door,  while  t: 
ihe  hall  into  ; 


quiet'./,  as  was  her  habit,  proceeded  to  put  away  tlio  debris  of 
the  feast,  an  1  to  restore  tin-  apartment  to  its  former  order.  In 
tliis  she  was  undisturbed  l>y  cither  of  her  lovers  ;  the,  custom  of 
'•onntry  requiring  that  she  should  be  left  to  the.se  occupa- 
wltlmut  being  embarrassed  by  any  obtrusive  sentiments,  or 
n  civilities.  But  it  might  be  observed  that  Richard  Coulter 
had  taken  his  seat  in  the  piazza,  at  a  window  looking  into  the 
hall,  while  Mat  Dunbar  had  placed  himself  nearly  at  the  en 
trance,  and  in  close  neighborhood  with  the  industrious  dame. 
Here  he  divided  himself  between  attentions  to  her,  and  an  occa- 
Monal  dip  into  the  conversation  on  polities,  whi-jh  was  now  fully 
in  progress.  It  is  not  our  purpose  to  pursue  this  conversation. 
The  arguments  of  the  commissioners  can  be  readily  conjectured 
But  they  were  fruitless  to  persuade  our  worth v  Dutchman  into 
any  change,  or  any  self-committals,  the  issue  of  which  might  en 
danger  present  comforts  and  securities.  lie  had  still  the  same 
answer  to  every  argument,  delivered  in  broken  English  which 
we  need  not  imitate. 

11  The  king,  George,  has  been  a  good  king  to  me,  my  friends. 
I  was  poor,  but  I  am  not  poor  now.  I  had  not  a  finger  of  land 
before  I  came  hither.  Now,  I  have  good  grants,  and  many 
acres.  I  am  doing  well.  For  what  should  I  desire  to  do  better? 
The  good  king  will  not  take  away  my  grants;  but  if  I  should 
hear  to  you,  I  should  be  rebel,  and  then  he  would  be  angry,  and 
he  might  make  me  poor  again  as  I  never  was  before.  No,  no, 
riy  friends ;  I  will  sign  no  association  that  shall  make  me  lose 
my  lands." 

"You're  right  !"  vociferated  Mat  Dunbar.  "It's  treason,  I 
say,  to  sign  anv  association,  and  all  these  rangers  here,  in  arms, 
are  in  open  rebellion,  and  should  be  hung  for  it ;  and  let  the 
time  come,  and  I'm  one  to  help  in  the  hanging  them!" 

This  was  onlv  one  of  many  such  offensive  spreehe>  which  Dun- 
bar  had  contrived  to  make  during  the  evening.  The  o>mmi:>rion- 
•mtented  themselves  with  marking  the  individual,  but  with- 

•ut  answering  him.    But  his  rudely-expressed  opinions  were  not 

oleasintr  to  old  Sabb  himself,  and  still  less  so  to  his  worthy  crow, 
withdrew  at   this    into    the   hall;    while    the    stern  voice   of 
Elijah  Fields  descended  in  rebuke  upon  the  offender. 

"And  who   art   thou."  said  he    abruptly,  "to  nit  in  judgment 


OF  IJICT.  203 

Brethren?      And  who   ha>  Mod   tlico    to 

.•If   to    the    takii:Lr  "f  human   lif< 

Cimu    of  huiiiau    ]" 

in-  \\  Inch  '  !  u<  whether  wo   shall 

ity.     '!'••   iino   so  you1 

as  n   man.  it  miirht  he  well   to   n 
\  rl  <>f  youth,  and    that  when  so  many  of 
!  of  tlio   land   have  raised  their  •  gainst 

•  her-country.  there    may  he  g 

!io  know  hut  little,  should  respect  them,  and  li>ten 
,m.     If  thou  wilt  he  counselled  l.y  me.  tliou  wilt  hearken 
•eiitlonu-n.  that  wo   may  know  all  the 
•  •t'  their  argument.1' 

Duul  this  rolnike  with  a  tew  muttered  sent 

which   were   h;;rdly   intelligible,   making   no   e<'iic«  the 

preacher    or    the    commissioners,    vet    withoul  Lively 

Richard  Coulter  was   more    pnidont.      II ••    jMe-Tvi-il 
a  pro:  I-  it  he  wa<  neither   uii'»h>orvant    nor   indif- 

•  •t  he  had    taken    no    vide    in    the    controversy,  and 
totally  uncommitted   ain«mjr   the    j-eoj,],-.      Hut  he  had 

•  juiotly  chewing  the  cud  of  >»d!'-i. 

p   a   little    while,   leaving   t!  '11    on 

•d    in    the  n  —  fur  Wa-ner   and    Lun^r.  the    commis- 

:iot  willinir  to  :  \n-   of  hrin^'in. 

s   influence  —  the   you:  rolled  out  into  the 

where    their    ln-i>»->    had  !  • 

A-    thi  \     \\  alked.    t!.>  Olll    ah- 

ruj.tly  :  — 

i 
to    iii-;iiicctiou    ;uid    tro;i>'Ui  ;    hut  a  _ 

11    AS 

'.     They  \-\^  •     .ter's 

'If 
m  up  to  a 
limb.      We'ie  men  rnm: 

young 
1 

•i-in.      When    I  were 

.     .:  — 


264  SOUTHWARD  no! 


"  No,  no,  Iny.s-  ;  y.n  must  do  nothing  ,,f  (]lC  \^}{]t  These  are 
good  men,  and  old  eaongh  to  be  the  fathers  of  any  of  us.  Be 
sides,  they're  Mrai,  :.  f.hink  they're  doing  right.  Lot  'cm 

alone." 

"  Well,  if  yon  wont,"  .said  Dunbar,  "we  can  do  without  yon. 
There,  art',  four  of  us,  and  they're  hut  two.' 

•   V  >u  rnistake."  replied  Coulter,  still  quietly,  "they  are  three  !' 

"How!  who?" 

H  Wagner,  Long,  and  Richard  Coulter!" 

'What,  yon!  Will  yon  put  yourself  against  us  ?  You  go 
with  the  rebels.  then  .'" 

"I  go  with  the  .strangers.  I  don't  know  much  about  the  re 
bellion,  but  1  think  there'*  good  sense  in  what  they  say.  At  all 
events,  I'll  not  stand  by  and  see  them  hurt,  if  I  can  help  it." 

"Two  or  three,  boys,"  continued  Dunbar,  "  will  make  no  dif 
fer*  nee  !" 

This  was  said  with  a  significant  toss  of  the  head  toward  Coul 
ter.  The  instincts  of  these  young  men  were  true.  They  al 
ready  knew  one  another  as  rivals.  This  discovery  may  have 
determined  the  future  course  of  Coulter.  He  did  not  reply  to 
Dnnbar;  but,  addressing  his  three  companions,  he  said,  calling 
each  by  his  Christian  name,  "You.  boys,  had  better  not  mix  in 
tliis  matter  before  it's  necessary.  T  suppose  the  time  will  come, 
when  there  can  be  no  skulking,  But  it's  no  use  to  hurry  into 
tronbb'.  As  for  four  of  you  managing  three,  that's  not  impossi 
ble  ;  but  I  reckon  there  will  he  a  light  tir.st.  These  strangers  may 
have  weapons;  but  whether  they  have  or  not,  they  look  like 
men  ;  and  I  reckon,  you  that  know  me,  know  that  before  my 
back  tastes  of  any  man's  hickory,  my  knife  will  be  likely  to 

hi.'  blood." 

Dnnbar  replied  rudely  for  the  rest  ;  and,  but  that  Coulter 
quietly  withdrew  at  this  moment,  >crniingly  unruflh-d,  and  with 
out  making  any  answer,  there  might  have  been  a  struggle  be 
tween  the  two  rivals  even  then.  Hut  the  companions  of  Dunbar 
had  no  Mu-h  moods  or  motive.-  as  prompted  him.  They  were 
impressed  by  what  Coulter  had  said,  and  were,  perhaps,  fjnite  as 
much  under  his  influence  as  under  that  of  Dunbar.  They  ac 
cordingly  .turned  a  cold  shoulder  upon  all  his  exhortations,  and 
the  commissioners,  at  cordingly,  left  the.  house  of  old  Sabb  in 


>U   I>K  P1PLE.  -05 

• 
ing  Coulter.     Thev  little  knew  his  object 

ing  thiMii  to  the  ilwellii;_  --it  Carter,  whore  they 

1  that  night,  and   never  knew    tin-   danger  lV..in    which  his 

nd    manly   courage    had    saved    them.      But  the  events 

ight  brought  out  Richard  Coulter   f'<>r   the   can.-*1   of  the 

and  a  lew  months   found   him   a   second  lieutenant  in  a 

gallant  c«'ip-  "!'  Th"mps«.n'.s    rangeis,  raised    for   the  defence  <>{' 

the  col.my.     Imt  the  commissioners  parted  from  Frederick  Sabb 

with»ut  making  any  impression   mi   his  mind.      lie    professed  to 

I  perfect  neutrality — this  being    tin- 

tiou  of  his  selfishness  ;  but  his  heart  nail}-  inclined  him  to  the 
support  of  the  "  goot  King  Jorge,"  from  whom  his  grants  of  land 
had  been  derived. 

;  what  dost  thou  think,  brother  Fields?"  said  he  to  the 
{•arson,  after  the  commissioners  hail  retired. 

"  Brother  Sabb,"  was  the  answer,  "  I  do  not  see  that  we  need 
king  anv  i!i<>re  than  the  jK'ople  of  Israel,  when  they  called 
upon  Samuel  for  ..ne  ;   and   if  we  are   to   have  one,  I  do  not  see 
wh\    we  >hould  not  choose  one  from  out  our  own  tribes." 

•  Bl    thei     1  .'dds,  I  h<»pe  thou  dost  not  mean  to  go  with  these 

••  Brother  Sabb,  1  desire  always  to  go  with  my  own  people." 
••  And  whom  callest  thou  our  own  people?" 
"Those  who  dwell  upon  the  soil  and  nurse  it,  and  make    it 
flourish  ;    »vlio   rear   their  Hocks  ami  children  upon  it,  in  the  tear 
of  God,  and  have  no  fear  of  man  in  doing  so." 

••  Hmther    Kiel's.    I    fear   thou   thinkst   hardly  of  '  goot   King 
,-.' "    .-aid    our    l>ntehman.    with    a    sigh.     "  Minnicker,   my 
yOQ  de   1'iple." 

•  •HAI'TKK     II. 

WK    pas*   over   a   long    interval   of   <juitc   throo  years.     The 
vici.ssitudes  of  the    Revolution   had    not   materially   affected   the 
of  the   several    parties    to   our   narrative.      During  this 
period   the    patriots  of  South   (Carolina  had  been  uniformly  MIC- 
t'ul.      They    had    1-eaten    av..,       •         1'ritish    IPUII    their   chief 
city,  and  had  invariably  chasti/ed    the    1"\  ali-ts    in    all    their   at 
tempts  to  make  a  diversion  Ih  !  Put 


200  SOUTH  \V.\IID    UOl 

events    were     changing.      The.-e    performances    had    not 

•ted  l.nt  at  great  sacrifice  of  Mood  and  treasure,  and  a  for- 
midable  P.ritish  invasion  found  the  >tate  no  longer  e^ual  • 

Bnce.      Charleston,  the   capital    city,  after   frequent    08Ci 
and    a    stout'  and    protracted    defence,  had  succumbed  to  tin 
u  ho   had   now  penetrated  the  interior,  covering  it 
their  strongholds,  and  coerci?:g  it  with  their  arms.      For  a   brief 
interval,  all  opposition  to  their  progress  Deemed  to  he  at  an  end 
within  the  .stale.     She  had  no  force  in  the  field,  stunned  hy  re 
peated  blows,  and  waiting,  though  almost  hopeless  of  her  oppor 
tunity.      In    the    meantime,    where    was    Richard    Coulter  1      A 
fugitive,  lying  jn-n'ti  either  in   the   swamps  of  Kdisto  ofTonga- 

\\itli  few  companions,  all  similarly  reduced  in  fortune,  and 
pursued  with  a  hate  and  fury  the  nio.st  nn^iupulous  and  unre 
lenting,  hy  no  less  a  person  than  Matthew  Dunbar,  new  a  ca; 

valists  in  the  service  of  George  the  Third.  The  p.i.siiion  of 
Coulter  was  in  truth  very  pitiable;  but  he  was  not  without  his 

-  'lations.  The  interval  which  had  elapsed  since  our  I 
meeting  with  him,  had  ripened  his  intimacy  with  Frederica 
Sabb.  His  affections  had  not  been  so  unfortunate  as  his  patri- 
oti>ni.  With  the  frank  impulse  of  a  fond  and  feeling  heart,  he 
had  appealed  to  hers,  in  laying  ban-  the  secret  of  his  own;  and 
he  had  done  W  s'u  .vsMully.  fche,  with  as  frank  ,1  nature,  !'  rely 

•  him  her  affections,  while  she  did  not  venture  to  !>e>to\v  on 
him  her  hand.  His  situation  was  not  such  as  to  justify  their 
union,  ;-.nd  her  father  positively  forbade  the  idea  »f  siu-1  ••  -o  i- 
:iection.  Though  i.ot  active  among  the  l'>vali.-l>.  be  W&B  now 

•ii  to  aj.prove  of  their  sentiments;  and  while  giving  them 
•ill  the  aid  and  comfort  in  his  power,  without  actually  .  Lowing 
himself  in  armor,  he  as  steadily  turned  a  cold  and  unwilling 
front  to  the  patriots,  and  all  those  who  went  against  the 
monarch. 

The  visits  of  Richard   Coulter  to  Frederica  v 

.  perhaps   not    tin*    If--  sweet    for   h"ing  .--.      .'  me- 

times  brought  him  forth  at  nightfall  from  the  si,e!;rr  of  the  neigh 
boring  swamp,  venturing  abroad  at  a  time  when  loyalty  WM  •  uji- 

i  to  kiM-p  it"    shelter.      lint  these  visits  were  aluavs  ac 
panied  by  considerable  peril.    The  eve  of  Matthcv. 
frequently  drawn  in  {;,  .,  of  the  fugitive,  while   his  pas- 


'a  V^T. 

\\liii-li  led  him  t" 

tins    iiartii-ul.il   victim.      Th<  ;;  \\  e!l-kim\vn 

life    iiiiil    death.      Tin-  fugitive    patri-.t  wa>  predonmed 
the  haltei.  i    to  paci;  '   ac- 

,jUjP.  Iu.\.  Duiiliar  did   not  actually  know  that   Coulter 

iv  in  tbr  hal.it  of  ;  '  ut  that  they 

.  and  In-  had  i,worn   their  detection.      He   had 
I  declared   suitor   of  that   maiden,  and    the  I'm 

:'ler  him  t«>  decline  his  attention-  to  hi*  d;: 
iri-lare  a-ai:i.-t  them.     Dunhar  had  liecoine  notoriously 
an  unmitigated  niliiau.      II;-  in  •  fa  ted    the  "Id  Dutch- 

.  eil  his  \-iolence  and  influence.    Still, 

•  hi    Minnicker  Said),  \n>  r.  •  .ther  had 

fieely,  that   hi>  daughter's  atVections 

main  unforced  ;    while   the  daughter   her-  :  the 

;uaiiy  careful   to   avoid   the  final  ne- 
:'  ri'juil>iii-    her   rej>ul.-ive   >uitor.      She  continued,  i 

.  uity,  to  keej»   him  at  hay,  with 
out  v(  xini;  hi  him  with  civility,  with- 

;dm    jn.siti\e  encoura^eiiient.      DOcb    was   the 
:i  of  things  aim ui^  our  >e\eral  j.arti«->,  when  the  partisan  war 
M;  when  the  favorite  native  in  the  south — the 

j.le    having   jias>ed  —  had    rallied    their   little 
BqiUldt,  in    .-\\amp  and    thickt-t,  and  were   making  those  fu  • ' 

jiiiet  the  British  authorities,  reu- 
iojihtful  of  the  i--.iniue.-sts  which  they  had 

[1  rememl 

,  u,  whei.  11  of  a  Continental 

\\ithin  r! 

•it    the    ch'M«    "f   a    cloud\  u,    late    : 

17*-'  Dunliar.  with    a    >mall    command    of 

mounU'd    me:i.  approached    tlu>    wtdl-known    !' 

!'.      The  road    lay  al>n^r   t:  :nk  «'f  tl. 

,ii(dinin-  to  oi  receding  f.-.m  tl,. 

'dth  of   thv  s\\  amp.  01    the 
ol    :  ..      The  farm  ..f  >ahl. 

ho\\i've.-,  the  lands  wen-  entirely 

»phy>ical  harrier  to  t:.  amp,  \\hilethe-ioutul. 


268  s 

though  rich,  was  liable  to  fre*het,  ami  required  a  degret  cf  lalior 
in  the  drainage  which  it  was  not  in  tin-  power  of  our  g..,,d 
Dutchman  to  bestow.  A  single  wagon-track  led  tin.. ugh  the 
wood  to  the  river  from  his  house ;  and  there  may  havi-  been 
some  half  dozen  irregular  foot-paths  tending  in  the  same  direc 
tion.  When  within  half  a  mile  from  the  house,  Mat  Dunbar 
pricked  up  his  ears. 

"  That  was  surely  the  gallop  of  a  horse,"  he  said  to  his  lieu 
tenant —  a  coarse,  ruffianly  fellow  like  himself,  named  Clymes. 

"  Where  away  ?"  demanded  the  other. 

"To  'the  left.  Put  in  with  a  few  of  the  boys,  and  see  what 
can  be  found." 

Clymes  did  as  he  was  hidden  ;  but  the  moment  lie  had  dis 
appeared,  Dunbar  suddenly  wheeled  into  the  foreM  also,  putting 
.spurs  to  his  horse,  and  commanding  his  men  to  follow  and  scat 
ter  themselves  in  the  wood.  A  keen  suspicion  was  at  the  l>i>ttc.::i 
of  his  sudden  impulse;  and.  with  his  pistol  in  his  gra:-p.  and  his 
teeth  set  firmly,  he  darted  away  at  a  rate  that  showed  the  e, 
ness  of  the  blood-hound,  on  a  warm  scent.  In  a  few  moments  the 
wood  was  covered  with  his  people,  and  their  cries  and  hallo.-, 
answering  to  each  other,  turned  the  whole  solitude  into  a  scene, 
of  the  most  animated  life.  Accustomed  to  ilrin  the  woods  for 
deer,  his  party  pursued  the  same  habit  in  their  present  <|iie>;, 
enclosing  the  largest  extent  of  territory,  and  gradual!',  contra-  t- 
mg  their  «i/-<1u/t  at  a  given  point.  It  was  not  long  hef'ore  a  cer 
tain  degree  of  success  seemed  to  justify  their  pursuit.  A  loud 
shout  from  Clymes,  his  lieutenant,  drew  the  impetuous  Dunbar 
to  the  place,  and  there  he  found  the  trooper,  with  two  others  of 
the  party,  firmly  confronted  by  no  less  -,\  person  than  1'Yederica 
Sabb.  The  maiden  was  very  pale,  but  her  lips  were  closely 
compressed  together,  and  her  eye.-  lightened  with  an  expression 
which  was  not  so  much  indicative  of  anger  as  <>f  courage  and  re 
solve.  As  Dunbar  rode  up,  she  addressed  him. 

"You  are  bravely  employed,  Captain  Dunbar,  in  hunting  with 
your  soldiers  a  feeble  woman." 

"  In  faith,  mv  dear  Miss  Sabh,  we  looked  for  verv  different 
game,"  replied  the  leader,  while  a  sardonic,  smile  played  over 
his  visage.  "  But  perhaps  you  can  put  us  in  the  way  of  finding 
it.  You  are  surelv  not  he. re  ;ili::e  .'" 


"  And  v,-!r,    :     '  '     Y»u  are  within  hail  of  my  father's  dwelling." 
"Hut  yo-  •'   flu1  ta-tes  f'>r  lonely  walks." 

'•Alas'  sir.  t1  -.-lively  tin-  times  for  any  Other." 

••  \V. •!'    •  insi    permit  me  tu  see  that   your  walks  are  in  no 

>in    intrusion   ami   insult.      Y«n:  v/il!.  :i»   donbt,  be   omi- 
!ed  to  hear  i!  ••«!  Lands  of  the  ivh •"•]:;  arc 

';.    harhored    ii,  \arnp«.      That  vil- 

llter,  is   known    t«»    ho    amon^   them.      It  is  to   hunt    r,p 
tlyen  —  to    protect    y«n   IVoin    their  annoy am-os,  that  I 
am  hc'v  now." 

••  \\'r  can  readily  di-jieii:-e  \\  ith  tlie-e  -ei'vircs.  Tajitain  1  )unh;ir. 
not   think    that  we  are    in  any  danger  from    such  enemies, 
and  in  thU  neiu-hhichm.d." 

016  i-tVort  to  >ay  this  calmly. 

i\.  yon    are  (|iiite    too  contident,  my  dear  Mi-s  Sahh. 
You  kii'-w  1.-  t  t!i"  andaci'y  «>f  these  rehels,  and  of  this  Richard 
i  j.arti:  ular.      Hut  let  me  lay  hands  on  him  !      You  will 
6  that  he  is  scarce  ten  minutes  ^one  from  this  spot 
"U  not  hear  his  h" 
11  I   heard  no  horses  hut  your  own." 
"There  ir  i>  !      You  walk  the  woods   in   such  ahstractiou   that 

•he  danger, though  immediately al  yonre* 

di>peis,.  \..nrxd\es  in  pursuit,  my  merry  men,  and  wlmso  brl 
me  the  ears  of  this  outlaw,  shall  have  ton  guineas,  in  the  yellow 

•t-elf.     No  continental  sham !     Remember,  hia  ears,  h 

\\V   do  n,.t  want   any  prii-oiiers.      The   tmulih>  of   hanjri!i«?  them 
out  of  t!  •  rd   liy  a    sahre-cut  or  p' 

•      There, 

'•ouiitenaiice    of    Fredrrica   Sahl.    instantly    a<>umed    the 
kcene-t    e\pres>i,in    .,f   alarm    ami    anxiety.      Her    wli.de    f: 

iji  t>.  he  agitated.      She  advanced  to  the  side  of  the  rutlianly 
soldier,  and  put  her  hand  up  appealh 

plain   1  Minhar.  will  you  not  ph-a>e  L'O  home  with  mo, 
you  and    your  men  f      It  is  now  our  supper-hour,  and    the  sun  is 

I     pi-ay    you.    do    not    think    <>\ 
woods  at  thi-  late  hour.      >       t  of  your  p<  he  hurt." 

•ny  ile;ir  —  all  of  them  are  fam«. 
"  Thel'e    18  IK) 
the  wood.s  that  \\'e  tr;ir.     ( ir>  «•  \  our>eit'  no  trouhle,  nor  \  <>ur  men." 


270  SOUTHWARD  no! 

"  Oli,  you  mistake!  thorp  is  surely  some  one  in  this  w«><xl 
who  is  oitlior  in  your  way  or  mine  —  though  you  heard  no 
horse." 

"  Oli  !  now  I  recollect,  sir,  I  did  hear  a  horso,  and  it  seemed 
to  1)0  gohig  in  that  direction." 

Here  the  girl  pointed  below.  The  tory  leader  laughed  «»ut- 
right. 

"  And  s<»  he  wont  linger,  did  ho  ?      Well,  my  doar  Miss  .Said:, 
to   ploase   you,  I  v.'ili    take    up  the    hunt  in  the  quarter  diivrllv 
opposite,  since  it  is  evident  that  your  hearing  just  now  is  exi 
iligly  deceptive.     Boys,  away  !      The  back-track,  hark   von  !  — 
the  old  !<>x  aims  to  doable." 

"Oli.  go  not  —  go  not!"  she  urged,  passionately. 

"Will  I  not?"  exclaimed  the  loyalist,  gathering  up  his  reins 
and  backing  his  steed  from  her  —  "will  I  IK.'.  ?  Away,  riymes, 
—  away,  boys;  and  remember,  ten  guineas  for  that  hand  which 
brings  down  the  outlaw,  Richard  Coulter." 

Away  they  dashed    into  the.  forest,  scattering   themselves   in 

i  lie  direction  indicated  by  their  leader.     Frederica  watched  their 

departure    with   an    anxious   gaze,  which    disappeared   from   her 

the  moment  they  were,  out  of  sight.     In  an  instant  all  her 

tion  ceased. 

-  Now — thank  Heaven  for  the  thought!"  she  cried  —  "  it  will 
.'<•  <piite  dark  before  they  find  themselves  at  fault  ;  and  when  they 
.'link  to  begin  tin-  search  below,  he  will  be  wholly  beyond  their 
each.      But  how  to  warn  him  against  the  meeting,  as  agreed  on. 
The  coming  of  this  man  forbids  that.      I  must  BO€ — I  must  con 
trive  it."      And  with  these  muttered  words  of  half-meaning,  she 
:ly  made  her  way  toward  her  lather's  dwelling,  secure  of  the 
present  safety  of  her  lover  from  pursuit.      She  had  very  BUC 
fully  practised  a  very  simple  /  //.vr  for  his  escape.      Her  apprehon- 
\\orr  only  but  admirably  simulated  ;  and.  in  telling  Dunbar 
tluif  the   fugitive    had   taken  one    direction,  she    naturally  relied 
on  his  doubts  of  her  truth,  to  make  him  seek  tin-  opposite.      She 
had  told  him  nothing  but  the  truth,  but  she  had  told  it  as  a  false 
hood;    and  it  had  all    the  effect  which    she    desired.      The  chase 
of  the  tory -captain  proved  unsuccessful. 


271 


CMAl'TKK      III. 

IT  was  quite  dark  before  Captain  Dunbar  reached  • 

of   Frederick  Sahb,  and    ho    did   so  i;  '1    humor.     l> 

pointed  .»f  his  prey,  he  nov 

lie  h  'illation  . 

as  lie  entered  the  in  n<>  friendly  humor. 

"  Th'  i 'Ttaiu   bins.  ]\Ii>^    S  ••\'li.'  fiy  far 

from  their  yn-,i!i^  ODCfl  at  the  approach  of  the  hunter.  J 
such  a  IV  -,,1  in 

danger.      1      •«•  you  have  learned  to  practise  after  their 

tluntaiily  replied :    "Hut,  indeed.  Captain    Dun- 
heard  the  h<>rse  go  he! 

"I  see  \  rstand  n.  'he  answer.      I   feel  assured 

that  y<m  tnid  me  only  the  truth,  hut  you  had  first  put  me  in  the 
humor  not  to  helieve  it.  Another  time  I  shall  know  how  to 
understand  i,< 

!"d,  hut  did  not  .seek  to  !f.  proceed- 

'le  in  the  preparations  for  supper.      This  had  i 
got    in    readii.  i.dly   for   the    arrival  of   Dunhar  and    his 

party.      He,  with   < '1  vines,  his   lir-t   officer,  hail   hecome   im. 
of  the  dwelling;   but  his  troopers  had    encamped  without,  under 
iiiMiuetions    of    particular    vigilance.       Meanwhile,    supper    pro- 
Sahh    and    his    rnur    lu;in^  very  heedt'ul   of   all  the    ex- 

njectured  wants  of  their  arhitr;.  i 

while  the  rep  ;  thai     1  >m,],nr    fanned    th;i' 

heheld   a  considerahle  ;    unea.sine>-.  in    the    nianne. 

nothing,  and   her  m'n-l 
ily  t.i  wander.      He    suddenly  ;, 
from  a  dream,  at   the  sound  of  h, 

Ily, 

:.iethin«j's    ^oin^    wron-r,"  said    Dunlar,  in    a   win- 
ClyiiM-s  ;    "  we  r.in  jmt  all  ri-ht,  however,  if  W( 

\     '^nificant  l...,k  accompanied  the  io  thn 

•  ilicer    (.1. servant.      When    Mipper    was    concluded,    th- 
captain   of   th> 

:.ed    and    stretched    himself   ania/in^lv,    and    wi'le-ut    much 
d  to  propriet}'.      A  like  \\ear;ne>^  §OOB  after'  xhil-'/ 


in  the  second  officer.  At  length  Dnnbar  said  to  Old  Sabb,  iisin-; 
a  style  of  address  to  which  the  old  man  was  familiar,  "  Well, 
Uncle  Fred,  whenever  my  bed's  ready,  say  the  word.  I'm 
monstrous  like  sleep.  I've  ridden  a  matter  of  fifty  miles  to-day. 
Iu  the  saddle  since  four  o'clock  —  and  a  hard  saddle  at  that. 
I'm  for  sleep  after  supper.'' 

The  «>ld  man,  anx'iou^  to  please  his  guest,  whom  he  now 
began  rather  to  fear  than  favor,  gave,  him  soon  the  intimation 
which  he  desired,  and  he  \v;is  conducted  to  the  small  chamber,  in 
a  shed-room  adjoining  the  main  hall,  which  had  been  assigned 
him  on  all  previous  occasions.  Old  Sabb  InniM-lf  attended  his 
guest,  while  Lieutenant  Clyme*  remained,  for  a  while  longer, 
the  companion  of  the  old  lady  and  her  daughter.  Dnnbar  soon 
released  his  host  from  further  attendance  l.y  closing  the,  duor 
upon  him,  after  bowing  him  out  with  thanks.  HP  had  scarcely 
dune-  so,  before  he  approached  one  of  the  two  windows  in  the 
chamber.  He  knew  the  secrets  of  the  room,  and  his  plan  of 
operations  had  been  already  determined  upon.  Concealing  his 
light,  so  that  his  shadow  might  not  appear  against  the  window, 
he  quietly  unclosed  the  shutter  so  as  to  rouse  no  attention  by 
the  sound.  A  great  fig-tree  grew  near  it,  the  branches,  in  some 
degree,  preventing  the  shutter  from  going  quite  back  against 
the  wall.  This  afforded  him  additional  cover  to  his  proceedings, 
and  he  cautiously  passed  through  the  opening,  and  lightly  de 
led  to  the  ground.  The  height  was  inconsiderable,  and  he 
v/-«is  enabled,  with  a  small  stick,  to  close  the  window  after  him. 
in  another  moment  he  passed  under  the  house,  which  stood  on 
logs  four  or  five  feet  high,  after  the  manner  of  the  country,  and 
took  a  crouching  attitude  immediately  behind  the  steps  in  the 
rear  of  the  building.  From  these  steps  to  the  kitchen  was  an 
interval  of  fifteen  or  eighteen  yards,  while  the  barn  and  other 
outhouses  lay  at  convenient  distances  beyond.  Shade-trees 
were  scattered  about,  and  fruit-trees,  chiefly  peach,  rendering 
the  space  between  something  like  a  covered  way.  AVe  need 
not  inquire  how  long  our  captain  of  loyalists  Continued  his  \vateh 
in  this  unpleasant  position.  1'atience,  however,  is  quite  as  nat 
ural  as  necessary  a  quality  to  a  temper  at  once  passionate  and 
vindictive.  While  he  waited  here,  his  lieutenant  had  left,  the 
•altered  lii>  men  privily  about  the  grounds,  and  had 


oi. F)  niMn;H.  273 

himself  stole  ,  irh.  which   enabled   him  to  command  the 

front    entrance   f..   the   cottage.      The  only  two  means  of  egress 
were  thu<  etVectuallv  guarded. 

In  a  little  time  the  household  was  completely  quiet.  Dunbar 
had  heard  (lie  muttorings,  from  above,  of  the  family  prayers,  in 
which  it  was  DO  part  ..f  his  ;  ,]cc  .  an,j  ],.„] 

noar(|    I"'1    f'"  !'  the  old   couple,  as  they  passed   through 

t]ir  '  ;i.v  to  the   chamber  opposite  the  dining-hall.      A 

chain). er  adjoining  theirs  was  occupied   hy  Frederica  Sabh  ;   hut 
!:•'  likened  in  vain  for  her  footsteps  in  that  quarter.     His  watch 
one   calculated    to   try    his   patience,  hut   it  was   finally  ra 
led.      Me    heard    the   movement  of  alight  foot   over   i. 
and   SOMII   tli,.   d.,,,1-  opened   in  the  rear  of  the  dwelling,  and   he 
distinguished    Frederic  descended,  step  by  step,  to  the 

ground.     .She  paused, looked  up  and  around  her,  and  then,  dart 
ing   from  tree  to  bee,  .-lie    made,   her  way  to  the  kitchen,  which 
opened  at  her  touch.     Here,  in  a  whisper,  she  summoned  to  her 
an   old  African   who,  we   may  at  the  same   time 
mention,  had  heen  her  tre.juent  emissary  before,  on  missions  Mich 
e  QOW  dr-igned.      trough,  as  he  was   called,  was  a  faithful 
.  who  loved  his  young  mistress,  and  had  shown  himself  par- 
ticula.ly  friendly  to    her  ,///"/ //r.v  Jc  ccfur.      She  put  a  paper  into 
his  hands.  a:id  her  directions  employed  few  words. 

you  must  set  off  f,,r  Ma-s  Richard,  and  give  him 
this.  Von  mu>t  keep  close.  OX  the  soldiers  will  catch  you.  J 
don't  know  uhere  they've  gone,  hut  no  doubt  the\Ye  Wittered 
|n  tll(>  voodl.  i  have  told  him,  in  this  paper,  not  to  COM 

he  promised  ;    but  should  you  lose  the  paper " 

•  -nine  foee'em,"  said  lirough  seemingly  rather  disph-a:-> 

•i-.ubt,  tacitly  C 
Such   a   thing   might    happen,  trough  ;    Of 

:.y  of  the  tOXiefl,  you    ought  ,x    it.'      Jli^,    • 

Dp,  or  -wallow  it.  so  that  they  won't  be  able  to  read  it.  ' 
"  I   yerry.  mk 

"  \  :  !      And  now.  when  you   see  Mass  Richard,  tell 

hlm  ""t  t(l  ''"I'"1-      rr«'H  him  better  go  farther  of}1.  fteit>M  the  f-.k, 

;illli  •  -the,-  rirer;  to,-  that  M.-.t  Dunbar  mean,  to  punh 

aft(>r  Lini  f(1 !  wm  to  hmit  him  up  before  he 

Tell    hi,,,,  1    beg   him,  fo,-  my  .sake,  though    he  may  nut 

J  w- 


274  li'» 

ln>  afraid  of  that  bad  man.  to  keep  out  of  Ilia  way.  at    least  until 
•hers  men  enough  to  meet  him  «>n  his  own  ground." 

The  startling  voice  of  Dnnbar  himself  broke  in  141011  the  whis 
pered  conference.  "  Mat  Dunbar  is  exceedingly  obliged  to  you, 
ftfisa  Sabb." 

"All!"  shrieked  the  damsel  — " Brough  —  fly,  fly,  Brough." 
But  Brough  had  no  chance  for  flight. 

"  His  wings  are  not  sufficiently  grown,"  cried  the  loyalist,  with 
\  brutal  yell,  as  he  grappled  the  old  negro  by  the  throat,  and 
hurled  him  to  the  ground.  In  the  next  moment  he  possessed 
himself  of  the  paper,  which  he  road  with  evident  disappoint 
ment.  By  this  time  the  sound  of  his  bugle  had  summoned  his 
lieutenant,  with  half  a  do/en  of  his  followers,  and  the  kitchen 
was  completely  surrounded. 

"  Miss  Sabb,  you  had  best  retire  to  the  dwelling.  I  owe  you 
no  favors,  and  will  remember  your  avowed  opinion,  this  night,  of 
Mat  Dunbar.  You  have  spoken.  It  will  be  for  me  yet  to  speak 
Lieutenant  Clymes,  see  the  young  lady  home." 

"But,  sir,  you  will  not  maltreat  the  negro?" 

"  Oh  !  no  !  I  mean  only  that  he  shall  obey  your  commands. 
He  shall  carry  this  note  to  your  favorite,  just  as  you  designed, 
with  this  difference  only,  that  I  shall  furnish  him  with  an  escort." 

"Ah!" 

Poor  Frederica  could  say  no  more.  Clymes  was  abo'.t  to 
hurry  her  away,  when  a  sense  of  her  lover's  danger  gave  her 
strength. 

"  Brough,"  she  cried  to  the  negro  ;  "  you  won't  show  where 
Mass  Richard  keeps  ?" 

"  Never  show  dem  tory  not'in',  missis." 

The  close  gripe  of  Dunbar's  finger  upon  the  throat  of  the  iie- 
$ro  stifled  his  further  speech.     But   Frederica  was  permitted  to 
see  no  more.     The  hand  of  Clymes  was  laid  upon  her  arm, 
she  went  forward  promptly  to  save  herself  from  indignity, 
tittle  kiiaw  the  scene  that  was  to  follow. 


OF  I:«»IT.  AND  ra  275 


CHAI'TKK     IV. 

disappeared   from  the  kitchen,  the  n^ 
.  fi.rtli  by  the  captain  of  loyalists,  who  by  tills  time 
hail  BOITOUIlded  himself  with  nearly  all  his  hand.     A   .-m«:l. 

.    '  ceil    stationed    by    Clyim  .-n    the    hou-e    and 

kitrhen.  in  order  to  arrest  the  approach  <>f  any  of  the  \\  hi 
the  :  ;         [  about  to  undergo  a 

tain   painful   (.ideal.     The   stout   old    African,  do^edly,  with   a 
i-;    head,  obeyed    his   captors,  as   they  ordered 
him  to  a  neijrh'norinj:  wood  —  a  small  copse  of  scrubby  oaks,  that 
thfl  settlement  and  the  swamp  forest  alonjr  the  river. 
Berc,  "  ithoiit    .h-lay.  Mmu^h  was  commanded,  on   pain   of  rope 
and  !  fn  dtdiver  u{)  tlie  secret  of  Richard  Coulter's  hiding- 

place,      lint    the    old    fellow    had    promised    to    be    faithful.      11. 
Stubbornly  lefused    to  know  or  to  reveal    anything.     Tin-  » 
wliirh  followed  is  one  that  we  do  not  care  to  describe  in  detail. 
The  reader  n.u-t   imagine  it>  j.articulars.      Let  it    suffice  that  the 
•tire  was    haltered    by  the    neck,  and   drawn  up  re 
dly  to  the  .xwinirinj:  limb  of  a  tree,  until  the   moral  nature, 
-'•rawed   by  the  terrors  of  the  last    mortal 
'1  in  despair.      Urouirh  consented  to  conduct  the 
to  the  hiding-place  of  Richard  Coulter. 

iture  of  Matthew  Dunbar  was  now  in  full  exer- 

"  r.-.,,t  and    saddle!"    was  the  cry  ;    and,  with    the  negro,  both 
arm-  pinioned,  and  running  at  the  head  of  one  of  the  drap> 

.i-hed    to    the   stirrup-leather,  and    in    on.    aiit    danger, 
.ill  tnpi.injr.  of  a  sudden  >ahre   cut.  the  whoh 

tioilB,  made    their  way  down    the  com 
and  under  the  ^uidaiu--  Lfincan,      Tuont'th- 

placed   in   watch   upon  the   |  with   ins!: 

i:t,  and    not    suffer   their   pro.xim/ 
1'Ut    :'  ii  an  arrangement 

ua>  now  natural   iMnm^h  to  a  mind,  like    that 

••ent    mi>fortune.      Slu-  I 
1    of   the    departui  •  i<.\  ali-t    t!..,,p.      > 

.  iioin  tin-  Mreaknea  "t  poor  r»n»u^h.     \\'. 


270  SOUTHWARD    110  ! 

to  be  done  ?  \V:is  her  lovor  to  be  canght  in  tlio  toils?  TYa? 
she  to  liocome  indirectly  llio  agent  of  his  destruction  1  She  de 
termined  at  all  events  to  forego  no  effort  hy  which  to  effect  his 
escape.  She  was  a  girl  of  quick  wit  and  prompt  expedients, 
No  longer  exposing  herself  in  her  white  cotton  garments,  she 
wrapped  herself  closely  up  in  the  great  brown  overcoat  of  her 
father,  which  huricd  her  person  from  head  to  foot.  Site  stole 
forth  from  the  front  entrance  with  cautions  footsteps,  employing 
tree  and  shrub  for  her  shelter  whenever  they  offered.  In  this 
way  she  moved  forward  to  a  spot  inclining  to  the  river,  but 
taking  an  upward  route,  one  which  she  naturally  concluded  had 
been  left  without  a  guard.  But  her  objects  re<|;i:re<;  finally  that 
she  should  change  her  course,  and  take  the  downward  path,  as 
soon  as  she  could  persuade  herself  that  her  progress  was  fairly 
under  cover.  Still  she  knew  not  but  that  she  was  seen,  nnd 
perhaps  followed,  as  well  as  watched.  The  spy  might  arrest 
her  at  the  very  moment  when  she  was  most  hopeful  of  her 
object.  How  to  guard  against  this  danger?  1I«>\\  to  attain  the 
necessary  security?  The  question  was  no  sooner  formed  than 
answered.  Her  way  lay  through  a  wilderness  of  leaves.  Tim 
silent  droppings  from  the  trees  for  many  years  had  accumulated 
around  her,  and  their  con^t.-nit  crinkling  beneath  her  tread, 
drawing  her  notice,  to  this  source  of  fear,  suggested  to  her  the 
means  of  safety.  There,  had  not  been  a  rain  f..r  many  weeka 
The  earth  was  parched  with  thirst.  The  drought  had  driven 
the  gap  from  shrub  and  plant  ;  and  just  below,  on  the  very  route 
taken  by  the  pursuinir  party,  a  natural  meadow,  a  long,  thin 
strip,  the  seat  of  a  bayou  or  lake  long  since  dried  up,  was  cov 
ered  with  a  rank  forest  of  broom-grass,  parched  and  dried  by 
the  sun.  The  wind  was  fn-sli.  and  driving  right  belo\v.  To 
one  familiar  with  the  effect  of  firing  the,  woods  in  a  southern 
country  under  such  circumstances,  the  idea  which  possessed  the 
mind  of  our  heroine  was  almost  intuitive.  She  immediately  stole 
back  to  the  house,  her  eagerness  finding  wings,  which.  ho\\. 
did  not  betray  her  caution.  The  sentinels  of  Dmibar  kept 
\vatch,  but  she  had  not  been  unseen.  The  c«,nl,  deliberate  tory 
had  more  than  once  fitted  his  finger  to  the  trigger  of  his  hod 
man's  pi-  tol,  as  he  beheld  the  approach  toward  him  of  the  shroud 
ed  figure.  But  he  was  not  disposed  «o  show  himself,  or  to  give 


FIKK  IN  Tin-:  WOODS.  -77 

flu-  alarm  '  ef  •  dd  detect  the  objects  of  his  unknown  vis 

itor.      HIT    :etiirn   to  the    hou-e  was    not   beheld.      He   lia«l   lost 
sight  of  her  in  !s,  and  fancioil  her  still  t<>  he  in  the  nei^h- 

borhool.      I*:,  recover  liis   clue,   he   still  maintained    hia 

>n  waitis:-. 

:,£   ho.fore    die  reappeared    upon  tlie    scene.      Ifo 
(iid  not  see  th  ;ntil  it  crossed  an  open  space,  on  his  ri^ht, 

in  the  ilirectim:  <>:  ,w  it  stoop  to  the  earth,  and 

lie   then    bounded   I'onva;  •'..      lii-    haste  was   injurious   to  his  ob- 
.  er   the    pro>trate   trunk  of  a    pine,  which  had 
been    thrown    down  lor  :dy  a   few  days   before, 

lay  dark,  with  all  its  bar!;  upon  it,  in  the  thick  cover  of  the 
i!:-  pistol  went  oil'  in  his  fall,  and  before  he  could  recov 
er  his   feet,  he  founded   to  find   himself  threatened   by  a 
rapid  ruel  ing  I  MUL;-  directly  toward   him.      For 
a  moment,  the    Midden  blaze    blinded    him,  and  when  he   opened 
his  e.                         .1  Mirroui;  iw  notliinir   bnnian 
•thiii£  b  it  the  ^rrt-at  dark  shafts  of  pine,  brneath  which    the 
.  iishinj;  with  the  j-<;ar  and  volume  of  swolit-n  billows  of 
upon  the  >h"re  wliich  they    pj-omise  to  engulf. 
save    hiiiiM-lf.  !••  i.pp«..M'    lire   to   lire,  i.r   pas-   boldlj  tbrOQgb 
the  flauie  where  it  burned  mOS<  feebly,  was  now  a  first  nece-sity  ; 
and  \s«-  le;ive    him  to  extricate    himself  as  he  may,  while  we  f,d- 
h>w  the  j                     f  Fredrrica  Sabb.      The  flame,  which  she   had 
kindled    in  the   dr\                                 •  I,  from  the   little  old   st, 
lantern  of  the  cot:                  ••••aled    beneath    the  ;_reat-r»at  of  her 
father.  1;                                                           r   to  her   movements.      The 
;;d  in  the  direction  of  tl  .itinels. 

:u 1   the  one,  she  had   perceived,  in  tie-   I  \  hen   she 

'•oiumunieatin^  the    Ida/in^    candle    to  tin-    fui/e.      She  fan- 
>lie  wa>   >hot  when  .--.he    heard  the  report  of  the   j.i>! •  >}  ;    but 
*injr  her  hand  to  her  heart,  the  lantern  still  in  her  - 
darte«l  h-  ••!'  the  paths  leading  iliivctly  to 

the  river.      The  lite  .   all    the  •  •  ecu 

;iid   the   r  S(...n,  she   descended   from   the  pine 

rid^e,  and  pa-e.i    int..  the    h>\v  ;:.it    land,  stresved  \\itli 

'.\ith    theii    thi-us;u:d  /,•//»  -N,  «>r  abutment.s.      The   >,\amp 
:ie:.il\    i:  i'«>Ulid    lie:    \'.   i\    filoDg  a   well-known    path 

to    tbi-    river,  and    fi-m    beneath    a  clump    "f  >hr"ii«lin^  will 


278  SOUTH \VAIID  no! 

drew  forth  a  little  dug-out,  the  well-known  cypress  canoe  of  the 
country.     This  was  a  small  egg  shell-like  structure,   srauvly 
capable  of  holding  two  persons,  which  she  was  well  accustomed 
to  manage.    At  once  she  pushed  boldly  out  into  the-  broad  stronin, 
whose  sweet  rippling  flow,  a  continuous  and  gentle  murmur,  wa--1 
strangely  broken  by  the  intense  roar  and  crackling  of  the  fire 
as  it    swept  the  broad  track  of  stubble,  dry  grass  and  leave.-. 
which  lay  in   its  path.     The  lurid  shadows    sometimes,   p.-- 
over  the  surface  of  the  stream,  but  naturally  contributed  to  in 
crease  her  shelter.     With  a  prayer  that  was  inaudible  to  he; 
she  invoked  Heaven's  mercy  on  her  enterprise,  as,  with  a  sti 
arm,  familiar  in  this  exercise,  she   plied  from  side  to  side  th- 
tie  paddle  which,  with  the  favoring  currents  of  the  river,  - 
carried  her  down  toward  the  bit  of  swamp  forest  where  her  1<»\  er 
found   his  refuge.     The  spot  was  well  known  to   the  maiden, 
though  we  must  do  her  the  justice  to  say  she  would  never  !. 
sought   for  Richard  Coulter  in  its  depths,  but  in  an  emergency 
like  the  present.     It  was  known  as  "  Bear  Castle,"  a  dose  thick 
et  covering  a  sort  of  promontory,  three  fourths  of  which  was  e"- 
circled   by  the  river,  while  the   remaining  quarter  was  a  deep 
swamp,  through  which,  at  high  water,  a  streamlet  forced  its  way, 
converting  the  promontory  into  an  islet.     It  was  unfortunate  for 
Coulter  and  his  party  that,  at  this  season  the  river  was  much 
lower  than  usual,  and  the  swamp  offered  no  security  on  the  land 
side,  unless  from   the   denseness  of  the  forest  vegetation.      It 
might  now  be  passed  dry  shod. 

The  distance  from  "Bear  Castle"  to  the  farmstead  of  old 
Frederick  Sabh,  was,  by  land,  but  four  or  iive  miles.  By  water 
it  was  fully  ten.  If,  therefore,  the  stream  favored  the  progn-.-s 
of  our  heroine,  the  difference  against  Dunbar  and  his  tories  was 
more  than  equalled  by  the  shorter  route  before  him,  and  the 
start  which  he  had  made  in  advance  of  Frederica.  But  Hnnigh 
was  no  willing  guide.  He  opposed  frequent  difficulties  t  >  the 
distasteful  progress,  and,  as  they  neare.d  the  spot,  Dunbar  found 
it  necessary  to  make  a  second  application  of  the  halter  1>« 
the  good  old  negro  could  be  got  forward.  The  love  of  life,  the 
»f  death,  proved  superior  to  his  loyalty. 

B  rough  c->uld   have  borne  any  quantity  of  flogging  —  nay,  he 
could,  perhaps,  have  perished  under  tlie  scourge  without  confes 


l,tit  his  c  -'..iled,  when  tl:  that  <-f  1 

launched    into   eternity.       A  llsan    the    cord    or 

swinging   limit   would   not    have    found   1-  nt.     W;% 

ith  hear! 

lu-  led  tl.  'IT  from  the  main  road  • 

and  through  tl  t-paths  which  conducted  to  the 

• 

It  \v.  ;:t,  havii:;  what    space   lay  he- 

hat  Punhar  dismounted  hi-  I 

The  bow  loft  with  a  guard,  while  the  rest  of  : 

under   In  d    lead,  made    their   further 

]li..  that  the  "uM 

;1  with  which   he  had  been  taught  to  np- 
'    •  :nj.  ..f  tin-  fugitive;  and  this  signal  —  a  shrill  ' 

three  timea  -<.umled,  with  a  certain  n;.  eeen 

•  i-ani-i-  —  N-  M  when  the  swam})  was  entere-l 
over  which  the  river,  in  higl  i(-h 

iy  followed.     Poor  Br« 

:l;ng  the  other 
end.  of  the    cord    over   the    convenient    arm   of  a   h' 

under  which    t!M-\    -t 1.  \\  U    :i:caj  I 

I 

unded.      Hi-  lu-ait   i'a:!i-.i    him  |  Mid  a  re- 

rtii.n  of  the  c'-rd,  in  th-  f  the  nr- 

d    to  make    him  reju-at    tin-  -id    give    : 

vdume    to   hi  In    ih'-  fle,    l>uni   . 

•  •d    his  men  i'.-ruard.      The; 
uhere.  at    full  water,  the  alligator  wall-".-.  • 

ing  t  all  ;    \\\u-\  \>t    in 

;id-cat    ii. 
:'  many  fu. 
• '  : 

Tin-   route   \\..u".«l 

•  f,,r  me'  •      Bol    Dunbar,  i    ':  ' ...:   d<  al  ti 

with    an    . 

caution 


280  SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 


CHAPTER    V 

THE  little  party  of  Richard  Coulter  consisted  of  four  persona 
nesides  himself.  It  was,  perhaps,  an  hour  before  this  that  he  sat 
apart  from  the  rest  conversing  with  one  of  his  companions.  This 
was  no  other  than  Elijah  Fields,  the  inethodist  preacher.  Ho 
had  become  a  volunteer  chaplain  among  the  patiiots  of  his  own 
jnecinct,  and  ene  who,  like  the  bishop  of  Beauvais,  did  not  MTU- 
ple  to  wield  the  weapons  of  mortal  warfare  as  well  as  those  of 
the  church.  It  is  true  he  was  not  ostentatious  in  the  manner  of 
the  performance  ;  and  this,  perhaps,  somewhat  increases  its  mer 
it.  He  was  the  man  for  an  emergency,  forgetting  his  pravi-rs 
when  the  necessity  for  blows  was  pressing,  and  duly  remember 
ing  his  prayers  when  the  struggle  was  no  longer  doubtful.  V. •; 
Elijah  Fields  was  no  hypocrite.  He  was  a  true,  strong-souled 
man,  with  blood,  will,  energies  and  courage,  as  well  as  devotion, 
and  a  strong  passion  lor  the  soil  which  gave  him  birth.  In  plain 
terms,  he  was  the  patriot  as  well  as  the  preacher,  and  his  man 
hood  was  required  for  both  vocations. 

To  him,  Rbhard  Coulter,  now  a  captain  among  the  partisans 
Ml'  Snmter,  had  unfolded  the  narrative  of  his  escape  from  Dun- 
bar.  They  had  taken  their  evening  meal;  their  three  compan 
ions  were  busy  with  their  arms  and  horses,  grouped  together  in 
the  centre  of  the  camp.  Our  two  principal  persons  occupied  a 
lit  lie  headland  on  the  edge  of  the  river,  looking  up  the  stream. 
They  were  engaged  in  certain  estimates  with  regard  to  the  num 
ber  of  recruits  expected  daily,  by  means  of  which  Coulter  was 
in  hopes  to  turn  the  tables  on  his  rival ;  becoming  the  hunter 
instead  <-f  the  fugitive.  We  need  not  go  over  the  grounds  of 
their  discussion,  and  refer  to  the  general  progress  of  events 
throughout  the  state.  Enough  to  say  that  the  C"iitineiital  army, 
defeated  under  Gates,  was  in  course  of  reorganization,  and  re- 
upproaching  under  Greene  ;  that  Marion  had  been  recently  ac 
tive  and  successful  below;  and  that  Sumter,  defeated  by  Tarle- 
ton  at  Fishing  creek,  was  rapidly  recruiting  his  force  at  the  fool 
of  the  mountains.  Richard  Coulter  had  not  been  utterly  unsuc 
cessful  in  the  same  business  along  the  Edisto.  A  rendexvous  of 
his  recruits  was  appointed  to  take  place  on  the  ensuing  Satur- 


GB8  SIGNAL, 

tliis  rendezvous  it  wa>   hoped    that   he  would    fiiul 

18l    thirty  -tout   fellows   in  attendance.      But  we   anticipate. 

It  was  while  in  the  (list  ' s  that  the  «-\  • 

Coulter.  Mill  looking  in  the  directiun  of  his  heart,  were  attracted 

by  the  Midden  hla/.e  which  swept    the  forests,  and  dyed   in  lurid 

di»r  the  very  lace  of  heaven.      It  had    heen  the  purpose  of 

"ing   lire  to  the   undergrowth,  not   only  to 

shelter  her  OWE  j  ut    in   this  way  to  v.-arn  her  lover  of 

his  danger.      I'.ut  ti  W9M  to  alarm  him  for  licr  safety  rath- 

er  than  1 

"That  tire  i  "  was  his  first  remark. 

••  It  locks  like  it,"  was  the  reply  «>f  the  preacher. 

"Can  it  he  that  1  >unhar  has  Imrnt  the  old  man's  dwelling?" 

••liar,;:. 

"He    is    not    too    good    t'nr    it,    or    I'm-    anything    monstrous. 
He   has   burnt   others  —  old    Rumph's — Fergus,, n's,   and    many 

fat  !    but  he  prefers  to  own,  and  not  destroy  old  Sabb's.     Aa 
as  he  has  a  ln.pt1  of  getting  Frederica,  he  will  scarcely  com- 
-ucli  an  outra_ 
"  But  if  she  has  refused  him  —  if  she  answers  him  as  she  1'. 

:.  fully — " 

••  Elver  then  he  will  prefer  to  punish  in   a  different  way.     Ho 
will  v-i.tiier  rhoose  to  take  the  place  by  confiscation  than  burn  it. 

put  that  fire,  or  it  is  not  at  Sabb's,  but  thi> 
of  it,  or  beyond  it." 

"  It  i::av  be  the  act  of  voiiie  drunken  troujirr.      At  all  rv« 

;  we  should  be  on  the  h.'-k-out.      I  will  scnut  it  for 
a  \shi!»'  and  >er  what  the  mischief  i-.      Do  you,  mean\\hile,  keep 
thing  ready  for  a  start." 

'11  never  reach  us." 

•  with  thi*  wind,  jierhaps  ;   but  the  enemy  may.      I! 
dently  beat  the  w«».«ds  after  my  he(d>  this   evening,  and  in.-; 
heir   to-nioii<  ,\-  track.      We    must    be    prepared.      K«'.  p 

the  lmrses  saddleil  and    bitted,  and  ymir  ear>   opei.  -.11111- 

tDOQS.       Ha  !    by   1.- 

Uniiigh  in  a  healthy 
state.       Tiie   ol  1    l'el!«'\» 
at  aU  hours  in  the  .'id." 


282  SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 

Our  preacher  was  disposed  to  be  merry  at  the  expense  of  otii 
lover. 

41  Yes,  it  is  Brough's  signal,  but  feeble,  as  if  the  old  fellow 
was  really  sick.  He  has  probably  passed  through  this  lire, 
and  has  been  choked  with  the  smoke.  But  ho  must  have  an 
answer." 

And,  eager  to  hear  from  his  beloved  one,  our  hero  gave  hio 
whistle  in  reply,  and  moved  forward  in  the  direction  of  the  isth 
mus.  The  preacher,  meanwhile,  went  toward  the  camp,  quito 
prompt  in  the  performance  of  the  duties  assigned  him. 

"He  answers,"  muttered  the  tory  captain ;  "the  rebels  are 
delivered  to  our  hands!"  And  his  preparations  were  sternly 
prosecuted  to  make  a  satisfactory  finish  to  the  adventure  of  the 
night.  He,  too,  it  must  be  remarked,  though  somewhat  wonder 
ing  at  the  blazing  forest  behind  him,"  never  for  a  moment  divined 
the  real  origin  of  the  conflagration.  He  ascribed  it  to  acci 
dent,  and,  possibly,  to  the  carelessness  of  one  of  the  troopers 
whom  he  left  as  sentinels.  With  an  internal  resolution  to  make 
the  fellow,  if  offending,  familiar  with  the  halberds,  he  pushed 
forward,  as  we  have  seen,  till  reaching  the  swamp  ;  while  tha 
fire,  obeying  the  course  of  the,  wind,  swept  away  to  the  right  of 
the  path  kept  by  the  pursuing  party,  leaving  them  entirely  with 
out  cause  of  apprehension  from  this  quarter. 

The  plans  of  Dunbar,  for  penetrating  the  place  of  Coulter's 
refuge,  were  as  judicious  as  they  could  be  made  under  tht  cir 
cumstances.  Having  brought  the  troopers  to  the  verge  of  the 
encampment,  the  negro  was  fastened  to  a  tree  by  the  same  rope 
which  had  so  frequently  threatened  his  neck.  The  tories  pu.-du-.! 
forward,  each  with  pistol  cocked  and  ready  in  the  grasp.  They 
had  scattered  themselves  abroad,  so  as  to  form  a  front  sufficient 
to  cover,  at  moderate  intervals,  the  space  across  the,  isthmus 
But.  with  the  withdrawal  of  the  immediate  danger,  Brough's 
•  \%Q  returned  to  him,  and,  to  the  furious  ra^e  and  discomfi 
ture  of  Dunbar,  the  old  negro  set  up  on  a  sudden  a  most  bois 
terous  African  howl  —  such  a  song  as  th-;  Kbo  cheers  himself 
with  when  in  the  doubtful  neighbor!.  jungle  which  may 

hide  the  lion  or  the  tiger.      The   H.und   re-echoed   through  the 
.p,  ami  startled,  with  a  ::,  not  only  our  captain 

of  patriots,  but  the  pre.v  .  iates.     Brough's  voice 


;  \NHoM    I'.! 


was  well  known  (.>  them  :ill  ;   but  tliat  U  rough 

Mich  a  la-hi«>n  w;i<   quite  as   un*  to  them    as   t»  Dunbar 

and  '  :  the  latter  immediately 

'.g  to  knock   the  i.  the   head  :  ubt- 

:  1  have  been  the  fate  of  tin-  fallow,  bail  i: 
for  ;b  .-vents  which  called  hi:. 

-1    fi.rward  at   double   tjuick   time  as  lie  b- 
tb«-  I  t  of  ;be  African,  ami,  bi-in^   familiar  \vitb    tbr 

:t  little  space  t«.  enable   bim  to  reaeli  tlie  lino 
.icb    tin-  party  of  Dunbar  was   ^l«»\\ly  ma] 
_'.•  footfall,  and  obtaining  a  ^lim, 

!v,  Coulter  repeated  In-  whistle,     lie  W&B  angw- 

with  a  pistol  >hot — another  and  another  followed;    and   be   b.-n1 

'.  ind    bis    In;;:'  .al  of   i\\-_ 

when  he    felt    a    sml-i 

which  only  did  not  alVect  hi  ttt.      He  e.-ubl  Mill 

.•liable   bin:  t- 

the  cypress,  up"ii  which 

hi-    bail  a  been  perched  when   bis  wb  I   the   fire 

him    of  several  of  the    approaching   party.  h.id 

he  tl.  6  1  himself  from  a  random  search  when  he  Mink  into 

Insensibility. 

^••ar  C'astle."  ran^  with  the  signals  of  alar. 

•und  of  danger,  Klijah  l'ii-1  i  for- 

idter    had    taken.      But    the    pri- 
r  the  other  was  in.  ..  and 

.£  through   the  swamp,  and  \ 
I  ally  his   conn, 

into  the   river  and  tak 

in£  current  t'. 
the 

riTer,     A  m 

•    .     -  a>   the}'  \>  hiile..    rOHfl 

lami,  drew  from  them  the  remaining   bullet:,  in  tl: 
wit',.     . 

all,  he  i.. 
Mat   Dunbar  felt  him.- 

thii  time  undertaken  with  «very 


284  SOUTHWARD    Il<>! 

"  That  (1 tl  African  !"  was  his  exclamation.     "  But  he  shall 

hang  for  it  now,  though  he  never  hung  hef 

With  this  pious  resolution,  having,  with  torches,  made  such 
an  exploration  of  Bear  Castle  a>  left  him  in  no  doubt  that  all 
the  fugitives  had  escaped,  our  tory  captain  called  hi.s  .stjuad 
together,  and  commenced  the  return.  The  fatigue  of  passing 
through  the  dry  swamp  on  their  backward  route,  was  much 
greater  than  when  they  entered  it.  They  ,  .  lull  of 

excitement  —  full  of  that  rapture  of  the  strife  which   nt/cJs  not 

D  the  feeling  of  hate  and  n-venge  (^  make  it  gral.-iul  i 
eager  and  impulsive  temper.  Now,  they  were  battled  ;  the 
citement  was  at  an  end  ;  and,  with  the  feeling  of  perfect  disap 
pointment  came  the  full  appreciation  of  all  the  toils  and  exertions 
chey  had  undergone.  They  had  but  one  immediate  consolation 
1*1  reserve,  and  that  was  the  hanging  <•!'  Bmugh,  which  Dunbar 
promised  them.  The  howl  of  the  African  had  defeated  their 
enterprise.  The  African  must  howl  n->  longer.  Bent  on  mur 
der,  they  hastened  to  the  tree  where  they  had  left  him  bound, 
only  to  meet  with  a  new  disappointment.  Tho  African  way 
there  no  longer. 

(    HAPTKR     VI 

IT  would  be  diflicnlt  to  describe,  the  rage,  r.:;c  i\\iy  of  our  cap 
tain  of  loyalists  when  be  made  this  di.x-./veiy.  The  reauer  will 
imagine  it  all.  But  what  was  to  be  done?  Was  the  prey  to 
be  entirely  lost  ?  And  by  what  agency  had  Brough  ma  U  hij 

spe?     He  had   been  securely  fastened,  it  was  i  hough-.. 
in  such  a  way  as  seemed  to  render  it  imi-  at    lie  ;.houid 

have  been  extricated  from  his  bonds  without  li.e 
another.     This  conjecture  led  to  a  renewal  of  the  suuxh.     Th.> 
rope  which  fastened  the  negro  lay  on  the  ground,  »  I  by 

a  knife,  in  several  places.  Now,  Bmugh  could  not  use  his 
hands.  If  he  could,  there  would  have  been  no  sort  ..f  necessity 
for  using  his  knife.  Clearly,  he  had  found  succor  from  another 
agency  than  his  own.  Once  nmre  our  l.-\:disls  darted  into  the, 
recesses  of  Bear  Castle  ;  their  torches  were  to  be  seen  flaring 
in  eve.rv  part  i.f  that  dem-e.  patch  of  s\vamp-fore>t,  as  tlu-y 
waved  them  over  .  i  which  seemed  to  promise  ci.ncea) 

uiciit  to  the  fugitive. 


285 

(lark  :       .Tied  Punhar,  who>r  Ban  MTOre  <|niekcned  liy  « 
I  lark  !    I   hear  the  dip  of  a  paddle." 

lit  !        •    darted    forth  from  tin-  woods,  and  when 

hed    the    rive;  they  liad   a    glimp  mall 

.    ohject.  which    tlit'}-   readily  conceived    to    he 

one  of   the  ji:  of   the  shore    and    goi;,. 

'.  full  a  hundred    yards  In-low.      Here  wa>  another  my-' 

The  ramifications  of  Bear*  emed  numerous ;  and,  i 

:   a>  well   as   niortitieil,  Diuihar.  after  a  tedious   delay  and   a 

-!\   renewed,  took  nji  the  line  of  inarch  hack  for  old 

-•>lved  to  hring  the  fair  Frederica  to  terms 

or,  in  M>me  \v;:y,  to  make  her  pay  the  penalty  for  his  disappoint 
ments  of  the  ni^rht.  He  little  dreameil  h«.w  much  she  had  to  do 
with  them,  or  that  her  hand  had  fired  the  forest-grasses,  whose 
wild  and  terrific  hlaze  had  first  excited  the  apprehensions  and 
celled  the  caution  of  the  fugitives.  It  is  for  us  to  show 
what  further  agency  she  exercised  in  this  nocturnal  history. 

We  left  her  al«'i,e.  in    her   little    duir  <>ut,  paddling   or  drifting 
do\sn    the    river    with    the    stream.      She    pursued    this  'pro- 
with    proper    caution.       In    approaching    the    headlands    around 
whioh  the  river  swept,  mi  that  side  which  was  occupied  hy  Dun- 
iftfe    Mispendi-d  the  strokes  of  her  pa-idle,  leaving  her  silent 
to  the    direction  of  the  currents.      The    night  was  clear  and 
;ii. *ul    and   the  river  undefaced    hy  shadow,  except  when  the 
her   heneath  the  overhanging  willows  which    grew 
numerously   along   the    margin,  or  when    the   winds    Hung    g 
ke  from  the  luirning  woods  aCTOSfl  it>  hright.  sii 
\V  •'•,  these  exceptions,  the  stream  >hone  in  a  ligh1 
•  leai  and  heautiful  ln-cau.se  vague  and  capricious.      Moonlight. 
.  to  make  a  special    atmo>p!  ,uth,  and 

the  heait  w)iich    I  i  when    most    troul-led  with  an\:. 

the    l-elo\(-d    •  r,   at    such    a    >ea>on,   prove- 

•-ilde  tOtl  .-ductive  inlliiences  of  such  an  atm-.-p: 

M    not    the    heroine   of   convention.      She    had 
;    romance    from  hooks;    hut  .she  had    aflectioi. 
hich  hooks  might    he  written,  tilled  with  all   those    ijua! 
at  once,  strong   and    tender,  which    make    the.    heroine  in  the  mo- 
I'lei.1  \  .        Hei  '  .   -eated    in   til. 

Iro    of   l«jr   little    ve.ssel,   M.  d    the    soft    liglu    upon    tho 


280  souTii\YAi:i>  no  ; 

wave,  or  beheld  it  dripping,  in  bright,  light  droplets,  like  fair}; 
glimpses,  through  the  overhanging  foliage.  Of  fear  —  fear  for 
herself — she  had  no  feeling.  Her  apprehensions  were  all  for 
Richard  Coulter,  and  her  anxieties  increased  as  she  approached 
the  celebrated  promontory  and  swamp-forest,  known  to  this 
Any  upon  the  river  as  "  Bear  Castle."  She  might  be  too  late. 
The  captain  of  the  loyalists  had  the  start  of  her,  and  her  only 
lay  in  the  difficulties  by  which  he  must  be  delayed,  going 
through  a  hit  nil  forest  and  under  imperfect  guidance  —  for  she 
still  had  large  hopes  of  Brough's  fidelity.  She  was  too  late  — 
too  late  for  her  purpose  ;  which  had  been  to  forewarn  her  lover 
in  season  for  his  escape.  She  was  drifting  toward  the  spot 
where  the  river,  at  full  seasons,  made  across  the  low  neck  by 
which  the  promontory  of  "  Bear  Castle"  was  united  with  the 
main  land.  Her  paddle  no  longer  dipped  the  water,  but  was 
employed  solely  to  protect  her  from  the  overhanging  branches 
beneath  which  she  now  prepared  to  steer.  It  was  at  her  ap 
proach  to  this  point  that  she  was  suddenly  roused  to  apprehen- 
rion  by  the  ominous  warning  chant  set  up  by  the  African. 

"  Poor  Brough!  what  can  they  be  doing  with  him?''  was  her 
question  to  herself.  But  the  next  moment  she  discovered  that 
this  howl  was  meant  to  be  a  hymn  ;  and  the  peculiar  volume 
which  the  negro  gave  to  his  utterance,  led  her  to  divine  its  im 
port.  There  was  little  time  allowed  her  for  reflection.  A  moment 
after,  and  just  when  her  boat  was  abreast  of  the  bayou  which 
Dunbar  and  his  men  were  required  to  cross  in  penetrating  the 
place  of  refuge,  she  heard  the  sudden  pistol  shooting  under  which 
Coulter  had  fallen.  With  a  heart  full  of  terror,  trembling  with 
anxiety  and  fear,  Frederiea  had  the  strength  of  will  to  remain 
<|uiet  for  the  present.  Seizing  upon  an  overhanging  bough,  she 
lay  concealed  within  the  shadow  of  the  copse  until  the  loyalists 
had  rushed  across  the  bayou,  and  were  busy,  with  lighted  torches 
exploring  the  thickets.  She  had  heard  the  bugle  of  Coulter 
sounded  PS  he  was  about  to  fall,  after  being  wounded,  and  her 
ijiiick  consciousnees  readily  enabled  her  to  recognise  it  as  her 
lovt-i-'s.  But  she  had  heard  no  movement  afterward  in  the  quar- 
bf  from  winch  car.,e  the  blast,  and  could  not  conceive  that  he 
.should  have  made  his  way  to  join  his  comrades  in  the  space  of 
•;jh(-  allowed  between  that  and  the  moment  when  she  heard 


287 

taking  to   tin-  riv«r  with    their  hofses.      This  difficulty  led 

nullah,  hut  ni't   nf  a  >ort    t«i 

make  .1    of  what   wa>    due    to    the    pent  n  wh"i: 

rame  it  oil  only  until  the  torrent  ha<l  j  ,. 

Elraits  —  until    tin-  -Unit  —  when 

h«> at  to  the  wiUows  which  completely  enveloped  her. 

i  upon  the  land.    With  a  rare  insthut  which  p: 

.  '  art   had   interested   itself  in  the  operati": 

•:y  to  the  .-pot  wli-nce  »he  had  h 

•a lit  fron 

*iie  point  when-  -he  h;id  been  in  lurking.     Her  pr-   .  .s  ar- 

•!  hy  the  prostrate  trunk  <>f  hich  tho  hur- 

1    down   some   fifty  fore.      It 

6  difficulty  that   sho  scranihled   >•,  i;t  while  - 

6  heard   a   faint   murmur,  like  th  f  one  in  pain, 

ud.      Her  heart    i 
Vim*-'',  t"  tlie   jpot.     Auain  the  murmur  —  now  c\-rtainly  a  D 

'•'lit  on  the  nj,|  g,  wliich 

Tlie  pla.  ilk.  and  : 

^.•hen,  fn-m   h>>v   ..f  hlood,  he  was   I 

',:er  had  caret  ally  era  \vlrd  (dose    to   tl.  :-ulk, 

iVei-tually  ro\ere«l  him  from  passiivg  t  She 

found    him,  still  warm,  the    How  of  hlood    arn  >ted,  ,-uid    his 
sci'  •; 

"Richard!  it  is  me  —  Frederica  !" 

He  only  -i-hed.      It   required   hut  an  instant  for  reflection  on 
the  part  >  ,-.;  t'r»in  the  p!  had 

erooched  beside  him,  she  darted  I  ..rounds  \\ 

Broii-h  .still  continuei!    to  puir  out  his  tlismal  rjavulations  — . 

<»f  psaln.-  wli<iMp,  h.-tlloo    and    im- 

.ttion.      A    full    heart  and    a    li-ht    i'.  • 
\\hen  th«  ther,      I; 

no  time.      She  had  e\  rr\    ret  KM 
ire  their  prey,  the  ! 

•he  continued  CTiefl  of   Bn.n-h    h 

•ful  o{'  his  \\  here-aboul  1000  fotui 

'.ciently  nncomiortah!'.,'    i'..r  • 

hition  did  not  at  all  incline  him  to  n  Yet 

martyrdom  was  now  his  fe.u.     IT 


288  SOUTHWARD  HO! 

the  alarm  to  the  patriots,  were  succeeded  l>y  f,  clings  of  no  pieaa- 
ant  character.  He  had  already  had  a  taste  of  Dunbar's  punish- 
iii.'iiK  and  he  dreaded  still  worse  at  his  hands.  The  feeimp 
which  had  changed  his  howl  of  warning  into  one  of  lament-- 
hia  whoop  into  a  psalm- -was  one  accordingly  of  preparation 
]Ie  was  preparing  himself,  as  well  as  he  could,  after  his  African 
fashion,  for  the  short  cord  and  the  sudden  shrift,  from  which  he 
had  already  so  narrowly  escaped. 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  fellow's  rejoicing  as  he  became 
aware  of  the  character  of  his  new  visitor. 

"Oh,  Missis!  Da's  you?  Loose  'em!  Cut  yon'  nigger  ]..  Be! 
Le'  'em  run  !  Sich  a  run  !  yon  nebher  see  de  like  !  I  take  d  -so 
woods,  dis  yer  night,  Mat  Dunbar  nebbev  see  me  'gen  long  is 
he  lib!  Ila!  ha!  Cut!  cut,  missis!  cut  quick !  de  rope  is  woA 
into  my  bciry  bones  !" 

"But  I  have  no  knife,  Brough." 

''No  knife!  Da's  wha'  woman  good  for!  No  hab  knife! 
Take  you  teet',  misses  —  gnaw  de  rope.  Fsho  !  wha'  I  tei 
you  ?  Stop  !  Put  you'  han'  in  dis  yer  pocket — you  fin'  knife 
if  I  no  loss  cm  in  de  run." 

The  knife  was  found,  the  rope  cut,  the  negro  tree,  all  in  much 
less  time  than  we  have  taken  for  the  narration ;  and,  hurrying 
the  African  with  her,  Fr-derica  was  soon  again  beside  the  person 
of  her  lover.  To  assist  Brough  in  taking  hi-m  upon  his  back,  to 
help  sustain  the  still  partially  insensible  man  in  this  position  un 
til  he  could  be  earned  to  the  boat,  was  a  work  of  quick  rest  \»>, 
which  required,  however,  considerable  time  for  performance.  But 
patience  and  courage,  when  sustained  by  love,  lu-come  wonder 
ful  powers;  and  Richard  Coulter,  whose  moans  increased  with 
his  increasing  sensibility,  was  finally  laid  down  in  the.  bottom  <>f 
the  dug-out,  his  head  resting  in  the  lap  <>i'  Fn-drrira.  Tin-  boat 
could  hold  no  more.  The  faithful  Brough,  pushing  her  out  int« 
the  Ntream,  with  his  hand  still  resting  on  stern  or  gunwale,  swam 
along  with  her,  as  she  quietly  floated  with  the  currents.  We 
have  seen  the  narrow  escape  which  the  little  vessel  had,  as  She 
rounded  the  headland  below,  just  as  Dunbar  came  down  upon 
the  beach.  Ha-il  he  been  there  when  the  canoe  first  began  to 
lound  the  point,  it  would  ha\v  been  easy  to  have,  captured  the 
whole  paity  ;  >'.:,cc  the  stream,  somewhat  narrow  at  this  place, 


LOVE  IN  Till:  S\VA.\H'. 


which  tin*,  lories  oocnpiddi  and  a  stunt  swim 
rner  might  have  easily  diawn  tin-  little  argosy  upon  the  banks. 


•  II  APT  Kit   VII. 

To   on*1    familar  with  the    dense    swamps  that   skirt  the  rivers 
.gh  the  alluvial  liottom  lands  of  the  South,  there  will  he  no 
<  ulty    in    comprehending   the    fact    that    a   fugitive   may  find 
teni[  urity  within  half  a  mile  ..f  his  enemy,  even  whore 

;iisuers  hunt  for  him   in  numbers.     Thus  it  happened  that, 
in  taking  to  tin-  river,  our  little  corporal's  guard  of  patriots,  un 
der   the    direction  of  Elijah    Fields,  the   worthy  preacher,  swim 
ming  their   horses  round    a   point  of  land  on  the  opposite  shore, 
r  but   a  little  distance  below  "  Bear  island,"  in   a 
..imp  and  forest,  and  almost  within  rifle.shot  of 
their  late   reheat.      They  had   no   fear  that   their  enemy  would 
attempt,  at   that  late  hour,  and    after   the.   long   fatigue   of  their 
recent  march  and    search,  to  cn>.-s  the  river  in  pursuit  of  them  ; 
and  had  they  been  wild  enough  to  do  so,  it  was  equally  easy  to 
rch,  or  to  tly  from  pursuit.      Dunbar  felt  all  this  as 
'  e  fugitives;   and,  with  the  conviction  of  his  entire 
raib  ar  Ca>tlc,"  he  gave  up  the  game  lor  the  present, 

-while,  the  little  bark  of  Fred  erica  Sahh  made  its  way  down 
the    river.      She  made  her  calculations  on  a  just  estimate  of  the 
probabilities  in  the  situation  of  Coulter's  partv,  and  \\  as  not  <le- 
rbe    boat    swept    over    to  the    opposite    .slit-re,    alter 
rounding  the  point  of  land    that    lay  between  it  and  "Hear  « 

:  :eld>,  f->r  whom  B rough  had  ready  ansuer. 
»y,  the  fruit  of  a  proper  caution,  took  place  before  our 

pi'"perl\  ,,f  the  character  of  the  strai. 

but    the   result  was,  that,  with    returning  consciousiio.-s    Richard 
:  .und  himself  once  more  in  safety  with  his  friends;  and, 
.tisfaction,  attended  by  the  woman  of  hid 
:.      I;   was  not   h>n_  all  the   adventures  of   Frcd« 

were  in  his  possession,  and  his  spirit  became  neuly  MI  ei  Aliened 
•  ntlict  and  endurance  by  Mi.-h  proofs  of  a  more  than  feminine 
attachment  which  the  brave  young  girl  had  shown.     Let  us  I 
the  little  party  for  a  season,  while  \\  e  return  with  the  ouptain  of 
lova!!~t.-  to  the  farm>teai!  -  :  .    8  ibh. 

a 


'J90  SOUTHWARD    HO ! 

Here  Mat  Dunbar  had  again  taken  up  his  quarters  as  In-fore, 
but  with  a  difference.  Thoroughly  enraged  at  his  disappointment, 
and  at  the  discovery  that  Frederica  had  disappeared  —  a  fact 
which  produced  as  much  disquiet  in  the  minds  of  her  parents,  as 
vexation  to  her  tory  lover  ;  and  easily  guessing  at  all  of  the  steps. 
which  she  had  taken,  and  of  her  object ;  he  no  longer  imposed 
any  restraints  upon  his  native  brutality  of  temper,  which,  while 
he  had  any  hope  of  winning  her  affections,  he  had  been  at  some 
pains  to  do.  His  present  policy  seemed  to  be  to  influence  her 
fears.  To  reach  her  heart,  or  force  her  inclinations,  through  the 
dangers  of  her  parents,  was  now  his  object.  Unfortunately,  the 
lax  discipline  of  the  British  authority,  in  Carolina  particularly, 
in  behalf  of  their  own  followers,  enabled  him  to  do  much  toward 
this  object,  and  without  peril  to  himself.  lie  had  anticipated 
the  position  in  which  lie  now  found  himself,  and  had  provided 
against  it.  He  had  obtained  from  Col.  Nesbitt  Balfour,  the  mil 
itary  commandant  of  Charleston,  a  grant  of  the  entire  farmstead 
of  old  Sabb  —  the  non-committalism  of  the  old  Dutchman  never 
having  enabled  him  to  satisfy  the  British  authorities  that  he  was 
a  person  deserving  their  protection.  Of  the  services  and  loyalty 
of  Dunbar,  on  the  contrary,  they  were  in  possession  of  daily  evi 
dence.  It  was  with  indescribable  consternation  that  old  Sabb 
looked  upon  the  massive  parchment  —  sealed,  signed,  and  made 
authoritative  by  stately  phrases  and  mysterious  words,  of  the  pur 
port  of  which  he  could  only  conjecture  —  with  which  the  tierce 
Dunbar  denounced  him  as  a  traitor  to  the  king,  and  expelled  him 
from  his  own  freehold. 

"Oh!  mein  Gott!"  was  his  exclamation.  "And  did  the  goot 
king  Tshorgc  make  dat  baber  1  And  has  de  goot  king  Tshorge 
take  away  my  grants?" 

The  only  answer  to  this  pitiful  appeal,  vouchsafed  him  by  the 
captain  of  loyalists,  was  a  brutal  oath,  as  he  smote  the  document 
fiercely  with  his  hand  and  forbade  all  further  inquiry.  It  may 
have  been  with  some  regard  to  the  probability  of  his  future  mar 
riage —  in  spite  of  all  —  with  the  old  Dutchman's  daughter,  that 
he  permitted  him,  with  his  wife,  to  occupy  an  ;ld  log-house 
which  stood  upon  the  estate,  lie  e.Mai>ii>lu-d  himself  within  the 
dwelling-house,  which  he  occupied  as  a  garrisoned  post  with  all 
his  soldiers  Here  he  ruled  afi  The  proceeds  of 


201 

'    U   Med    («,    Iiim,    tl,,.     ;.  .'.\cepted 

•lie  support  of  tlio  old  couple.      8 
•  now  tan-lit  •  I  > 

•  Iiim    long.      Three   of  them 

' 
•Ti'l  l'»t  '  ined    in    his   keeping,  rather,  perhaps,  tlr. 

•  Mtinels,  ninl   their  own  fears,  thai 
which    they    entertained    for    their  new    custodian. 

;   one   of  them   n<.   less  a   p.- 

tlian  tin-  C  :   I'.n.ngli.  tlic  African.    Mrs.  Brmi^li- 

lind  1-ettrr  call  IHT- -  >he  will  nndorstand  us  better  —  Minn/  (the 
dhnintttil  'ma),  \\-.\a  j.;irtii-ularly  watched,  as  throuLrli  her 

^  w  Q6  clue  to  her  husband,  whose  treachery, 

>t  ^v  HOD  of  our  tory  captain  to  punM. 

the  power,  with  exemplary  tortures.    Brou.u'h  had  - 

_n.  which    it  was   no  part  of  his    policy  to 
'  ,  hut  this  did  not  ge  him  from  an  adventure  which 

l'»>("'.  ,i;ain  very  nearly  into  contact  with  h:  He 

'  his  uiie  l.y  stealth,  relying  upon   his  knowl- 
.  his  own  caution,  and   the  thousand  little 
with  which  hi-  ; ally  takes  advantage  of  the  carelessi 

<  e,  c.r  the   ignorance  <,f  its   superior.      His  wif. 
well    knew,  consci«.us  of  his  straits,  would  allord   him    ; 

in  v;:  H,.  meeeeded  in  .  the 

ne   inn  ruing,  and    from   her  ,  -d    the  \\ 

at  the  farm-:-  I.  Thi-  came  to  him  with 
rations;  particularly  when  Mirny  described  the 
.'  Inch  old  Sahh  and  hi>  wife  h; 

.  when  eai 
l.y  Hi-.- ugh  to 

vei -win-Ins  the  :«•  and  dutiful 

'><'••»'•  lie  instantly  felt  th 

her,  and  j.repared  '  outer  it.    Xin 

•  in  the  fan  . ,       i; 

.irance  had  been  shown    her.      Nothing  had  taken 
L-e    the  delicacy    of  the    female    heart;    and    ; 
hts    in    her   mind    had    kept    her    fnv    from    any    anno-, 

A  v    •' 
fne  '  '    ickl 


292  SOUTHWARD  HO ! 

leaves,  had  been  prepared  for  her  couch  at  night ;  raid,  hi  one 
contiguous,  lay  her  wounded  lover.  His  situation  had  amply 
reconciled  her  to  her  own.  His  wound  was  neither  deep  n..r 
dangerous.  He  had  hied  copiously,  and  swooned  rather  in  con- 
s.'ijuence  of  loss  of  blood  than  from  the  severity  of  his  pains. 
But  the  hands  of  Elijah  Field  —  a  rough  but  not  wholly  inexpe 
rienced  surgeon — had  bound  up  his  hurts  ;  which  were  thus  per 
mitted  to  heal  from  the  first  intention.  The  patient  was  not  sh.w 
to  improve,  though  so  precious  sweet  had  been  his  attendance  — 
:  erica  herself,  like  the  damsels  of  the  feudal  ages,  assisting 
to  dress  his  wound,  and  so  tender  him  with  sweetest  nursing,  that 
he  felt  almost  sorry  at  the  improvement  which,  while  lessening 
his  cares,  lessened  her  anxieties.  Our  space  will  not  sutler  us  to 
Iwell  upon  the  delicious  scenes  of  peace  and  love  which  the  two 
enjoyed- together  in  these  few  brief  days  of  mutual  dependence. 
riiey  comprised  an  age  of  immeasurable  felicity,  and  brought 
the  two  together  in  bonds  of  sympathy,  which,  however  ' 
had  been  their  love  before,  now  rendered  the  passion  more  than 
ever  at  home  and  triumphant  in  their  mutual  hearts.  But,  with 
the  tidings  of  the  situation  in  which  her  parents  suffered,  and  the 
evident  improvement  of  her  lover,  the.  maiden  found  it  necessary 
to  depart  from  her  place  of  hiding  —  that  sweet  security  of 
shade,  such  as  the  fancy  of  youth  always  dreams  of,  but  which 
it  is  the  lot  of  very  few  to  realize.  She  took  her  resolution 
promptly. 

"1  must  leave  you,  Richard.  I  must  go  home  to  my  poor 
mother,  now  that  she  is  homeless." 

He  would,  if  he  could,  have  dissuaded  her  from  venturing  her- 
:-.df  within  the  reach  of  one  BO  reckless  and   brutal  as  Mat  Dun- 
But  his  sense  of  right  seconded  her  resolution,  and  though 
^pressed  doubt*  and  misgivings,  and  betrayed  Ids  uneasiness 
and  anxiety,  he  had   no  arguments  to  offer  against  her  purpose. 
She   heard  him  with  a  sweet  smile,  and  when   he  had  tini.^hed. 
she  said  :  — 

"  But  I  will  give  you  one  security,  dear  Richard,  before  we 
part,  it'  yor  will  Miller  me.  You  would  have  married  me  more 
than  a  y>  ,  imt  as  I  knew  my  father's  situation,  his  pivf 

erences,  and  his  dangers,  1   re.  fused  to  do  so  until  the  war  was 
over.     It  has  not  helped  him  that  1  refused  you  then.      I  don't 


MAURI.UII-:  AND  <  A rii vi. 

see  that  it  will  hurt  him  it'  1  111.1:  and  then 

tiling   in  the  lift-  we  have  .-j  ber  tlic    !         .  'lint 

tell*  me  we  on^-lit  tn  he  married,  Richard." 

Ti  a  with   the  •i'!"i   li'-1" 

••  i1  :.t,  then,  dear  Frederica  .'"  demanded  th. 

raptured  lover. 

She  put  her  hand   into  his  own  ;   hi-  carried  it  to  his  lip.,,  then 
drew  her  down    t«»  him  where    he    lav  upon  his    leafy  COUcll,  ai.d 
ited    the    same    liherty    with    h.  :.  it,    in    another 

moment,  summoned    Elijah  Field    to  Ilia  side.      The    btU 

•  •: xplained.     Our  good  parson   readily  concur- 
ied  in  the  propriety  i,f  the  proceeding.      The  inhahita:. 

_!:t  to-eth<       : 

him.xflt"  •:'  •  iiiml  his  voting  ini>tn-».      The  wiiite  u-i  :h  ot' 

rinned    his    approbation;    the    !'..  -kics 

look.  the  dreamy  twilight  of  the  evening 

.mtl    there,  in  the    natural    temple  of  the    forest  —  none 

v  ever   prouder  or   more  appropriate    -with  colum. 

:i-  pine  ai;  .  '  •  'thie  hixunain-  and  leaf, 

and  .  .-haft,  and  corniee.  eapital   and    shrine,  our 

Goil  —  our    exeeiient 

BI  ha\iiifr  a  more  solemn  or  patrful  >en>e  of  the  rerei, 
and  never  ha\  i'.i^  heen  iimu-    sweetly  impre»i\r    in   hi.-   manner 
of  performing  it.      It  did  not  impair  the  validity  of  the  mai  . 
that    r.ion-h    honored    it,  a*    he  would    prohahly  have    done    his 

a  full    hour   after   i:  u..  to  his 

t,  and    in  the  ah.-enee  of  all  oth- 

l'(  rhaps,     f  all  his  little  world,  theie  were  none  whom  the 
old  mueh,  white    or    lilaek,  as    i 

mi.shvss   and    her  yuthful    hu>hand.      With  the  in 

:  left   the  ram,  J6  under  the  i-«mdurt  "f  Klijah   Fields. 

Th»-y  depuilrd    iu    the    hoat,  ti 

I  eurrent  of  f.mr  knotfl        \\  !th  • 

arm,  which,  ,  rough  t    him    t 

i>pp....ite  old  Sa'oi.'r,  farm.      -  I 

.standing    in    front 

-ned  hrr  pai.  ill  tlld  Strict  CUftodj 

of  the  tory  sentries. 


294  '     SOUTH \v.\.::-  HO! 


rHAPTKK     VIII. 

IT  was  with  feelings  of  a  tumultuous  satisfaction  that  Mat  Dun 
bar  found  himself  in  possession  of  this  new  prize.  lie  at  (nice 
conceived  a  new  sense,  of  his  power,  and  prepared  to  avail  him 
self  of  all  his  advantages.  But  we  must  suffer  our  friend  Brunei: 
to  become  the  narrator  of  this  portion  of  our  history.  An: 
about  events,  Coulter  persuaded  the  old  African,  nothing  loath,  to 
set  forth  on  a  scouting  expedition  to  the  farmstead.  Following 
his  former  footsteps,  which  had  been  hitherto  planted  in  secu 
rity,  the  negro  made  his  way,  an  hour  before  daylight,  tmvard 
the  cabin  in  which  Mirny,  and  her  companion  Lizzy,  a  young 
girl  of  sixteen,  were  housed.  They,  too,  had  been  compelled  to 
go  their  abodes  under  the  tory  usurpation  ;  and  now  oceu- 
an  ancient  tenement  of  logs,  which,  in  its  time,  had  g 
through  a  curious  history.  It  had  first  been  a  hog-pen,  next  a 
hunter's  lodge  ;  hail  stabled  horses,  and  had  been  made  a  tem 
porary  fortress  during  Indian  warfare.  It  was  ample  in  its 
dimensions  —  made  of  heavy  cypresses;  but  the  clay  which  had 
filled  its  interstices  had  fallen  out ;  of  the  chimney  nothing  re 
mained  but  the  fireplace  ;  and  one  end  of  the  cabin,  from  the 
decay  of  two  or  more  of  its  logs,  had  taken  such  an  inclination 
downward,  as  to  leave  the  security  which  it  offered  of  ex 
ceedingly  dubious  value.  The  negro  does  not  much  regard 
these  things,  however,  and  old  Mirny  enjoyed  her  sleeps  here 
quite  as  well  as  at  her  more,  comfortable  kitchen.  The  place, 
indeed,  possessed  some  advantage's  under  the  peculiar  circum 
stances.  It  stood  on  the  edge  of  a  limestone  sink-hole  —  one  of 
those  wonderful  natural  cavities  with  which  the.  country  abounds. 
This  was  girdled  by  cypresses  a,,d  pines,  and,  fortunately  for 
r.rough,  at  this  moment,  when  a  drought  prevailed,  was  entirely 
free  from  water.  A  negro  love>  anything,  perhaps,  better  than 
water  —  la-  would  sooner  bathe  in  the  sun  tjian  in  the  stream,  and 
would  rather  wad*  through  a  forest  full  of  snakes  than  sulVuse 
his  epidermis  unnecessarily  with  an  element  which  no  one  will 
insist  was  made,  for  his  uses.  Jt  was  important  that  the,  sink 
hole  near  Mirny's  abode  should  be  dry  .'it  this  juncture,  for  it 

that  IJrough  found  his  hiding-place.     He  could  approacl 
this  place  under  cover    tf  the  woods.     There  was  an  awk\ 


BROl 

interval    of   twelve    or    fifteen    feet,  it  is  true,  let  ween  this  placo 
aii.l  tlie  hovel,  which  the  inmates  hail  stripped   of  all  its  growth 
in  the  search  for  fuel  ;    hut  a  dusky  fonu,  on  a  dusky  night,  > 
ful    to    crawl    i»ver    the  i-ual 

:    a  drowsy  >cntincl  ;   and  Hrough  was  partisan  enough 
to  know  that  the  be>t  caution  implies  occasional   exposure.      II-' 
not    unwilling  to   incur  the   risk.     AVc  must  not  detail  his 
:    .ough   that,  hy  dint    of  crunching,  crawling,  creep- 
hiding,  he   had   contrived   to   hury  himself,  at 
•h  under  tlie  wigwam,  occupying  the  sjiace,  in  part,  of  a  de- 
uected  with  the  clayed   chimney,   and   fitting  hiin- 
GC  in  the  1-tg,  from  which  he  had  scratched  out  the 
n  fragme  ugly  as   if  he  were    a   part   of  it.     Thus 

with  his  '  rd  the   lire,  looking  within  —  his  hody  hidden 

:hose  within  l;y  the  undecayed  portions  of  the  timber  —  with 
Mirny  on  his  side   of  the    fireplace,  squat   upon   the   hearth,  and 
with  tin-  Joining  p.. t  ;    r.iough  might  carry  on  the  most  in- 
•ing  conversation  in  the  world,  in  whispers,  and  occasionally 
d  from  the  spoon  of  his  >pou>e,  or  drink  from  the  cala! 
without  any    innocent    pei>on    Mi>pecting  his  propinquity.      Wr 
will  Mipp">e  him  thus   quietly  eiiM-miced,  his  old  woman  beside 
him,  and  deeply  buried  in  the  domestic   histories,  which  he  came 
to  lu-.ir.     We  must  suppose  all  the  preliminaries  to  be  despatched 
,  ly,  which,  in  the  case  of  an  African  dramatis  jn'rs<m<i't  are 
usually  womierfully  minute  and  copious. 

•    And  dis  niggt-r  t->ry,  he'>  mau.ssa  yer  for  true?" 
"  I    tell   you,  lirough,  he'>  de>p'r't  had!      lie  :ek'  ebbry  ting 
B  ;r>J  ehhry  ting  for  him  —  we   nigger, 

'.  intation.  _.  liMiniuy  ;   and  ef  young  mi.-ses  no  marry 

.'   [hear]  —  he  will    hang    ole    mau»a  up  to  de 
sapling,  same  as  you  h  row  in  de  rornliel'  "' 

the  hilternos  of  his  spirit. 
••  \\ 
"  v'  1  'spec  he  nius  fight  for  um  yet.      M 

I    no    chick"n  !      He   guine  light  like  de  debhil,  so,.n  In 
.strong,  'f.ire    .  A  ine  happen.      He    hah 

'inr.       I  ;  ^l.t     ti«o  —  and    til 

gwine  tight,  soum-r  dan   dis  tory  ride,  whip  and   bpur,   obcr  we 
plantatio"." 


296  SOUTHWARD  HO! 

"  Why,  wha'  you  link  dese  tory  say  to  me,  Brougli  ?" 

"  Wha'  he  say,  woman  ?" 

"  He  say  lie  gwine  gil|  me  hundred  lash  ef  I  no  get  he  breck 
kus  [breakfast]  by  day  peep  in  de  morning!" 

"  De  tory  wha'  put  hick'ry  'pon  you*  back,  chicken,  he  hub 
answer  to  Brough." 

"  You  gwine  fight  for  me,  Brough  ?" 

"  Wid  gun  and  bagnet,  my  chicken." 

"  All,  I  blieb  you,  Brough  ;  you  was  always  lub  me  wid  you1 
sperrit !" 

"Enty  you  blieb?  You  will  see  some  day  !  You  got  'nodei 
piece  of  bacon  in  de  pot,  Mirny  ?  Dis  hom'ny  'mos'  too  dry  in 
de  t'roat." 

"  Leetle  piece." 

"  Gi'  me." 

His  creature  wants  were  accordingly  supplied.  We  must  not 
forget  that  the  dialogue  was  carried  on  in  the  intervals  in  which 
he  paused  from  eating  the  supper  which,  in  anticipation  of  his 
coming,  the  old  woman  had  provided.  Then  followed  the  reca 
pitulation  of  the  narrative  ;  details  being  furnished  which  showed 
that  Dunbar,  desperate  from  opposition  to  his  will,  had  thrown 
off  the  restraints  of  social  fear  and  decency,  and  was  urging  his 
measures  against  old  Sabb  and  his  daughter  with  tyrannical  >e- 
verity.  He  had  given  the  old  man  a  sufficient  taste  of  his  power, 
enough  to  make  him  dread  the  exercise  of  what  remained.  This 
rendered  him  now,  what  he  had  never  been  before,  the  adv 
himself  with  his  daughter  in  behalf  of  the  loyalist.  Sabb's  \h'~ 
tue  was  not  of  a  self-sacrificing  nature.  He  was  not  a  bad  man 
—  was  rather  what  the  world  esteems  a  good  one.  He  \\asjust, 
as  well  as  he  knew  to  be,  in  his  dealings  with  a  neighbor;  was 
not  wanting  in  that  charity  which,  having  first  ascertained  its 
own  excess  of  goods,  gives  a  certain  proportion  to  the  needy 
he  had  offerings  for  the  church,  and  solicited  its  pra\  t-rs.  But 
he  had  not  the  courage  and  strength  of  character  to  be  virtiu.u> 
in  spite  of  circumstances.  In  plain  language,  he  valued  tl.- 
curities  and  enjoyments  of  his  homestead,  even  at  the  peril  of 
his  daughter's  happiness.  He  urgi---!,  with  tears  and  reproaches, 
that  soon  became  vehement,  the  suit  of  Dunbar,  as  if  it  had  been 
bis  own  ;  and  even  his  good  uoa  Bliunicker  Sal-1),  overwhelmed 


\T    ()!)!)>.  *2(J7 


by  his  affliction^  ami  her  own.  joired    BOH  euhat   in  his  cntn 

We  mav  imagine  poor  Froderi^a's  afflictlonB,   She  had  not  dared 

ti«  reveal  to  either  the  secret  of  her  marriage  with  Coulter.     She 
n<>w  dreaded  its  discovery,  in  regard  to  the  probable  efl'ect  which 
it  might  have  upon  Dunbar.     "What  limit  would  there  1 
fury  and  brutality,  should  the  fact  become  known  to  hin.       !! 
measure  his   rage  —  how  meet    i<  She    trembh 

llected  upon  the  possibility  of  his    making  the   <li 
and,  while  inwardly  swearing  eternal  fidelity  to  her  husban-'.. 
rc>olvcd  still  to  keep   her   secret   close   from   all,  looking   to    the 
chapter  of  providential   events  for  that  hope  which  she  had  not 
the    power    to   draw   from    anything   within   human   probability. 
Her    eyefl    naturally  turned   to   her  hnshand,  first  of  all  mortal 
I'ut    >he    had   no  voice   which   could   reach  him  —  and 
what    was    his    condition?      She    conjectured    the    visits    of   old 
liroiigh  to  his  >pouse,  hut  with  the>e  >he  \\  as  prevented  from  all 
.  .      H.-r  hope  was,  that  Mirny,  .seeing  and  hear 
ing   for   heiself,  would   duly  report    to    the  African;   and  he. 
well  knew,  would  keep   nothing    from   her   husband.      We   ! 

;  the  conference    between    this  venerable    couple.      The 
re>u!  >nded  \\ith  the  anticipations  of  Frederica.     Ilr'.ugU 

hurried  back  with  his  gloomy  tidings  to  the  place  of  hiding  in 
the  s\vamp  ;  and  Coulter,  still  suffering  somewhat  from  his 
woim  i,  and  conscious  of  the  inadequate  force  at  his  control,  fi-r 
the  i  his  wife  and  people,  wa>  almost  maddened  by  the 

mti'Higrnce.      I!--  looked  around   upon   his   party,  now 

fen  men,  not   including  the  parson.      Hut  Elijah  Fields  was 

himself.      The  men  wen-  al>o  tine  and  capable  — 

riilemen,  good  M-<.uts,  and  Bl  U  they  were  faithful.     The 

troop  under   Dunhar   eon>i>ted  ,11    men,  all  well  armed 

:jnd  i  id>  were  ^reat,  but  the  despair  of  Richard 

prepared    to    overlook    all    iniMjuali?'.- 

•  discourage  him. 

"There  i>  no  hope  hut  in  ourselves,  Elijah,"  was   the    D 
( 

11  T.,dy,  and  in  God!"  was  the  reply 
"  We  mu.st  make  the  eflurt." 
"  Verily,  \\e  must." 
1  We  have  t-eveii  men,  not  coun'.ing  yoin>elf,  Elijah." 


298  SOUTHWARD  HO! 

44  I  too  am  a  man,  Richard,"  said  the  other,  calmly. 

"A  good  man  and  a  brave;  do  I  not  know  it,  Elijah?  But 
we  should  not  expose  you  on  ordinary  occasions." 

"  This  is  no  ordinary  occasion,  Richard." 

"  True,,  true  !     And  you  propose  to  go  with  us,  Elijah  ?" 

"  No,  Richard  !  I  will  go  before  you.  I  must  go  to  prevent 
outrage.  I  must  show  to  Duubar  that  Frederiea  is  your  wife, 
It  is  my  duty  to  testify  in  this  proceeding.  I  am  the  first  wit 
ness." 

"But  your  peril  Elijah!  He  will  become  furious  as  a  wild 
beast  when  he  hears.  He  will  proceed  to  the  most  desperate 
exces 

"  It  will  be  for  you  to  interpose  at  the  proper  moment.  You 
must  be  at  hand.  As  for  me,  I  doubt  if  there  will  be  much  if 
any  peril.  I  will  go  unarmed.  Dunbar,  while  he  knows  that  i 
am  with  you,  does  not  know  th:>.t  I  have  ever  lifted  weapon  in 
the  cause.  He  will  probably  respect  my  profession.  At  all 
events,  I  mutt  interpose  ami  save  him  from  a  great  sin,  and  a 
cruel  and  useless  violence.  When  he  knows  that  Frederiea  is 
irrevocably  married,  he  will  probably  give  up  the  pursuit.  If 
Brouglfs  intelligence  be  true,  he  must  know  it  now  or  never." 

"Be  it  so,"  said  Coulter.  "And  now  that  you  have  made, 
your  determination,  I  will  make  mine.  The  odds  are  desperate, 
so  desperate,  indeed,  that  I  build  my  hope  somewhat  on  that 
very  fact.  Dunbar  knows  my  feebleness,  and  does  not  fear  me. 
I  must  effect  a  surprise.  If  we  can  do  this,  with  the  first  ad 
vantage,  we  will  make  a  ru>h,  and  club  rifles.  Do  you  gu  up 
in  the  dug-out,  and  alone,  while  we  make  a  circuit  bv  land.  We 
can  be  all  ready  in  five  minutes,  and  perhaps  we  should  set  out 
at  once." 

"  Right  !"  answered  the  preacher;  "  but  are  you  equal  to  the 
struggle,  Richard  ?" 

The  young  man  upheaved  his  pouerful  bulk,  and   leap;: 
to  the  bough  which  spiead  over  him.  grasped  tlie  extruded  liml 
with  a  single  hand,  and  drew  himself  across  it. 

"Good!"  was  tlie  reply.  "But  you  are  still  stiiV.  I  have 
been  you  do  it  much  more  easily.  Still  you  will  do,  if  you  will 
only  economize  your  breath.  There  is  one  preparation  first  tc 
be  made,  Richard.  Call  up  the  men." 


-TKIFK.  209 

Tin')1  were  summoned  with  a  -ingle,  shrill  whistle,  and  Coul- 

;.ut  them  in  po»esMon  of  the  adventure  that  lay  before 

.      It    needed    neither   argument    nor  entreaty   to    persuade 

ration  of  readiness  for  the   encounter.      Their 

•isiasm  wa>   grateful   (o  their  leader,  whom   they  personally 

i    now,  my  hrothren,"  said   Elijah    Fields,  "  I   am   ahout 

to  leave  you,  anil  we  are  all  about  to  engage  in  a  work  of  peril. 

W.'   know  not  what  will   happen.      We   know  not  that  we   .shall 

I:    ifl   proper  only  that  we   should   COnfeftB  OUT  ftiofl 

nd  invoke  his  mercy  and  protection.      My  brothers,  let 

With  these  words,  the   party  .sank   upon   their  km  > 
placing   himself  hehind   Coulter.      Fervent    and    simple  was   the 
•.(•her  —  inartificial   hut  highly  touching.     Our 
::'«T  us  to  record   it,  or  to  describe  the  I 
Hiiij  '  Qg.      The    eyes    of   the    rough    men    I 

;,  their    1  .  -ngthened.      They  rose 

linn  ami  resolute  to  meet  the  worst  issues  of  life  and  death,  and, 

"h  of  them  in    turn,  BrOUgll    not    6XC6ptod,  Klijah 

my,  liy  emharkinj^   alone  in  the 

'  with  hi.s  party,  soon  followed,  taking  the  route 

through  t! 

( HAPTKR     l\. 

"iir  captain  of  loyalists  had   gone   forward 
in   h  l:li    a   very    free    and    l'earle>s    footstep. 

bicb    he  PHI-MUM!,  in  tin-  is  <>ne  of 

a  thousand    ii.  to  illustrate  the  jiert'ect   reckl 

with  \\hich    tl  and    their  haser  allies, 

the  claims  of  humanity,  when4  the  ii 
or  t!  fthe  whig  inhabitants  of  S-»nth  ('arolina  K 

'•rnrd.      Tim:-.  i,  I>unhar 

;    to  attach    D 
hut,  despatching  a   m«  g,  he 

then  '  ^ 

..  Siting  at 

parson,  win  i    • 


300  SOUTHWARD   HO  ! 

weak  and  timid  one,  wanting  that  courage  which  boldly  flings 
itself  between  tin-  victim  and  his  tyrant.  He  was  brought  into 
the  Dutchman's  cottage,  which  Dunbar  now  occupied.  Thither 
aUo  was  Frederica  brought,  much  against  her  will  ;  indeed,  only 
under  the  coercive  restraint  of  a  couple  of  dragoons.  11. •! 
parents  were  neither  of  them  present,  and  the  following  dia 
logue  ensued  between  Dunbar  and  herself,  Veitch  being  tin- 
only  wit!i< 

••  II ere-,  Frederica,"  said  Dunbar,  "you  see  the  parson,  lie 
comes  to  marry  us.  The  :-.insent  of  your  parents  has  h<-cn 
already  given,  ami  it  is  useless  for  you  any  longer  to  oppose 
your  childish  scruples  to  what  is  now  unavoidable.  This  day. 
1  am  resolved  that  we  are  to  be  made  man  and  wile.  JIa\iiiir 
the  consent  of  your  father  and  mother,  there  is  no  reason  for 
not  having  yours." 

"Where   are    they?"    was  the    question  of  Frederica.      II.,- 
face,  was  very  pale,  but  her  lips  were  firm,  and   her  eye 
without  faltering,  into  those  of  her  oppressor. 

11  They  will  be  present  when  the  time  comes.  They  \\ill  1  e 
pn-M-nt  at  the  ceremony." 

"Then  they  will  never  be  present!"  she  answered  firmly. 

14 Beware,  girl,  how  you  provoke  me!  You  little  know  <U- 
power  1  have  to  punish 

"  You  have,  no  power  upon  mv  voice  or  my  heart." 

"Ha!" 

Tin-  preacher  interposed:  "My  daughter,  be  persuade, 1. 
The  consent  of  your  parents  should  be  enough  to  incline  you 
to  GaptaiU  Dunbar.  They  are  surely  the  best  judges  of  what 
is  good  for  their  children." 

"1  can  not  and  1   will  not  marry  with   Captain  Dunbar" 

"  .Beware,    Frederica!"    said    Dunbar,   in    a    \oice    studiously 
subdued,  but  with  great,  diiliciilty  —  the    passion  speaking  out  in 
.  y  look.-,  and  his  frame,  that  trembled  with  its  emotions. 

"'Beware?'"  said  Frederica.  "Of  what  should  1  beware  I 
Your  [tower?  Your  power  may  kill  me.  li  can  scarcely  go 
farther.  Know,  then,  that  I  am  prepared  to  die  sooner  than 
marry  you." 

Though  dreadfully  enraged,  the  manner  of  Dunbar  was  btill 


THE    SKIHT 

carefully  Mihdued.      Ilis   word-,    WQTG    enunciated    ill    tones   of  a 
hihorious  ralin,  as  lie  replied  :  — 

••  V..;i  are  mistaken  i:  tent  of  my  })<•• 

•ach  where    you   little   imagine.      ?»ut  I  do  not 
1    prefer  that    j  .Id   give   me   your  hand  without 

:;iint  or  coercion." 
••That.  1  have  told  JOU,  i-  impossible." 

it  impossible." 

;:ilv,  on    inv  knees,  I    assure    you  that  never  can    I,  or 
will  1,  w!  I've  my  consciousness,  consent  to  he  your  v 

The  action  was  Miited   to  the  words.      She  sunk  on  her  k 

and  her  hands  were  clasped  and  her  eyes  uplifted, 
•mn  oath  to  he-iven.      Dunhar  rushed  furiously 
toward  !. 

1  !"   ho  exclaimed,  '•  will   you   drive  me  to  ma< 
••mpel  me  to  do  what   1   would  not?" 

preacher  interposed.    The  manner  of  Dunbarwm 

ut    to   .strike    his   enemy.      Kven    Fredeiv 
her  6768,  expecting  the  hh»w. 

•  me  endeavor  to  persuade,  the   damsel,  captain.' 

!     \"    ;'di.      Dunhar   tunieil    away  and    v,  ent   toward 
the  window,  leaving  the  field  to  the  preacher.      T<>  all  the  ei;- 

f  the  latter.  Fre  lerica  ma';.  16  reply. 

"  Thouirh  death  stared   me  in  the    face,  I    should  never  marry 
that  man  !" 

v:    tkafl  "'  >rai  the  t: 

bar.      "  N  hall    lielinld    him  in   such    I  yon 

l,av,  a  -hall    he    hroii^ht  to  knov, 

-.ilunit    to    inv  II',  there!      Neshitt,   hrini;    out    the 

r   naturally  it  tinned 

—  ,e    now    rose    to    ''.  In    the  .uient 

.    .ml.ar   tuvned   to  wh. 

-,.  -d  her  '       '  the  wind 

|      ,-11    ha<  !.  Tin-    eru  Ie   whicl 

that  i.f  her  father.  Mirmui. 

;,d,  and    the  halter  ah.,,  I  k,  waiting  only  tl  • 

-.vord  from  th« 


302  SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 

In  that  sight,  the  unhappy  girl  lost  all  consciousness.  She 
would  have  fallen  upon  the  ground,  hut  that  the  hand  of  Pmihar 
still  grasped  her  wrist.  He  now  supported  her  in  his  arms. 

"  Marry  us  at  once,"  he  cried  to  Vcitcli. 

"But  she  can't  understand  —  she  can't  answer,"  replied  tho 
priest." 

"  That's  as  it  should  he,"  answered  Dunbar,  with  a  laugh  ; 
"  silence  always  gives  consent  ' 

The  reply  seemed  to  he  satisfactory,  and  Vcitcli  actually  stood 
forward  to  ofiiciatc  in  the  disgraceful  ceremony,  when  a  voice  at 
the  entrance  drew  the  attention  of  the  parties  within.  It  was 
that  of  Elijah  Fields.  How  he  had  made  his  way  to  the  huilding 
without  arrest  or  interruption  is  only  to  be  accounted  for  by  his 
pacific  progress  — his  being  without  weapons,  and  his  well-known 
priestly  character.  It  may  have  been  thought  by  the  troopers, 
knowing  what  was  in  hand,  that  he  also  had  been  sent  for;  and 
probably  something  may  be  ascribed  to  the  excitement  of  most 
of  the  parties  about  the  dwelling.  At  all  events,  Fields  reached 
it  without  interruption,  and  the  first  intimation  that  Dunbar  had 
of  his  presence  was  from  his  own  lips. 

"  I  forbid  this  proceeding  in  the  name  and  by  the  authority 
of  God,"  was  the  stern  interruption.  "The  girl  is  already 
married !" 

CHAPTER     X. 

LET  us  now  retrace  our  steps  and  follow  those  oi   Kicnaid 
Coulter   and    his   party.      We    have    B66B    what   has   been   the 
progress  of  Elijah  Fields.     The  route  which   he  ;>m 
considerably  longer  than   that  of  his  comrades ;   but  the  <li. 
ence  of  time  was  fully  equalized  by  the  superior  an-1  emiia 
sing  caution  which  they  were  compelled  to  cAercise.     Th 
was  to  bring  them  to  the  common    centre  at  rjaiiy  tin 
moment,  though  the  policy  of  (  oultrr  required  a  dilV-ivnt'  cr      ->« 
of  conduct  from   that  of  Fields.      Long    before,   he   reache  . 
neighborhood  of  old  Sabb's  farm,  he  had  compelled  hi> 
to  dismount,  and    hide   their  Imrses    in    the    forcM.      Thty    'lie;. 
made  their  way  forward   on   foot.      Richard    Coulter  wa 
in  all   the  arts  of  the  j  artisan.      Thon-h   eager   to   graj  pl.« 
his  enemy,  and   impatient  {••  ascertain  and  arn-M  the  danger*  ^( 


303 

Ins   lovely  wife,  he   yet  made    '  |fl  app  \vit!i  n  proper  can- 

ti'»n.      T!  •  him   easily  t«, 

".<!,  making   M  Me  circii'-  iw  nigh  to  the 

•r    part   of  the   farmstead,  in   which    stood    the   oh-^-ure    out- 

B,  whirh.  when    Dunhar  had   taV.  i   of  the  man- 

issigned  to  tli-  >-;}>le.      This  lie  found  deserted  ; 

ttlc  dreamed  for  what  reason,— -Or  in  what  particular  emer- 

Duu-hi;  at  that  very  moment. 

anotber  Circuit, he  eame  upon  a  cnjiso,  in  which  f»ur  of  Diu:; 

ther  in   a   state  of  fancied 

.  and  they  lay  up-n  the 

'.ily  intere.sted  with   a   pack  of  greasy  cards,  which 
through  the  caniji. 
Tlie  '  jame  <.f  that   •!;«}•  was  0,'J-S/i  J^  or 

I  '/• ;  l>y  all  of  which  names  it  was  indiscriminately  ki; 

•  ;  Monte,  and    Vi/igt'un,  were  theii 

tmknown  in  that  region.      '\  .   all  modern  innovations,  in 

tin-    snhstitution   of  which    good    morals    have   made   fe\\    L: 

ill  countries,  are  n  fellows,  famous  f«>r 

-    mbg,       Those   of    Dunliar   were   n<»  exce]»tion 
to  the  rule.      Our  t«>ry  captain  freely  indulged  them  in  the  j 

He   himself  played    with    them  when   the   humor   suited. 

.    upon  whom  Coulter   came  were   not   on   duty,  th 
they  wore    tl..  .      Their   holers    lay  with    thei 

'a'ighlMuing  log,  not  far  ofi',  hut  not  immediatelv  within 
W  his  opportunity;   the  temptation  u 

hut  •  ,  tly  his  prey— noi  To 

•  •    man,  well  armed  with    rifle   ami    pair   of  pistols,  in  a 
jroup  at  any  moment,  and    hetween    them 
and  the  farm  plan;   and    this   done,  he    j 

on  1. 

!iis  first  hlow  at  th- 

inewhat  to  tin  edition 

of  t:  and   the  natural    .  :;t-h  an  alarm  r 

ihem  the  more.    All  th!  •!  with  great  prudr 

wit!; 

llu'  i  with    the   remaining    four 

he    rearhed    the  \,  just  whc: 

bad  a  full  viev. 


301  SOUTH WA ttD  HO! 

own  party  unseen  —  and  the  prospect  was  such  as  to  compel  his 
instant  feeling  of  the  necessity  of  early  action.  It  was  at  the 
moment  which  exhibited  old  Sahh  in  the  hands  of  the  pro 
his  hands  tied  behind  him,  and  the  rope  about  his  neck.  Clynies. 
he  lieutenant  of  Dunhar,  with  drawn  sword,  was  paring  betwrrn 
the  victim  and  the  house.  The  old  Dutchman  stood  hetwct-a 
two  subordinates,  waiting  for  the  signal,  while  his  wit'.-,  little, 
ure, lining  of  the  scene  in  progress,  was  kept  out  of  sight  at  the 
bottom  of  the  garden.  Clynies  and  the  provost  were  at  once 
marked  out  for  the  doom  of  the  rifle,  and  the  hi-mls  of  two  select 
shots  were  kept  ready,  and  levelled  at  their  heads.  But  Dtinbar 
must  be  the  first  victim  —  -and  where  was  he?  Of  the  scene  in 
the  house  Coulter  had  not  yet  any  inkling.  But  suddenly  he 
beheld  Fredcrica  at  the  window.  He  heard  her  shriek,  and  hc- 
lu-hl  her,  as  he  thought,  drawn  away  from  the  spot.  His  excite 
ment  growing  almost  to  frenzy  at  this  moment,  he  was  about  to 
givf  the  signal,  and  follow  the  first  discharge  of  his  rifles  with 
a  rush,  when  Mi.hlenly  he  saw  his  associate,  Elijah  Fields,  turn 
the  corner  of  the  house,  and  niter  it  through  the  piazza.  This 
enabled  him  to  pause,  and  prevented  a  premature  development 
of  his  game.  He  waited  for  those  events  which  it  is  not  denied 
that  we  shall  see.  Let  us  then  return  to  the  interior. 

We  must  not  forget  the  startling  words  with  which  Flijah 
Fields  interrupted  the  forced  marriage  of  Frederica  with  her 
brutal  pt-rsri'iitor. 

"  The  girl  is  already  married." 

Dunbar,  still  supporting  her  now  quite  lifeless  in  his  arms, 
looked  up  at  the  intruder  in  equal  fury  and  surprise. 

"Ha,  villain!"  was  the  exclamation  of  Dunbar,  "you  are 
here?" 

"  Xo  villain,  Captain  Dunbar,  but  a  servant  of  the  Most   11 
!" 

••  Servant  of  the  devil,  rather!  What  brings  you  here  —  ami 
what  is  it  you  say  ?" 

"  I  say  that  Frederica  Sabb  is  already  married,  and  her  hus 
band  living!" 

"Liar,  that  you  are,  you  shall  suing  for  this  indolence." 

•'  1  am  no  liar.  I  say  that  the  girl  is  married,  and  I  v:tn<>ssc<l 
the  ceremony  " 


Tin:  ro.NTi.1. 

"Yon   did,  did  you?"  was    tin-    speerh    ..f  I>iinl»:ir,  \vitli  a  tre 

\vn  (lie  still  1:  MI  of 

I  u  and  peA^ps  yon  performed  die  ceremony 

oli,  worthy  servant  of  tin-   '  h  !" 

••  It   wa<  my  lot  to  do 

•  (  irateful  lot  !      Ami  }>ray  with  whom  did  you  unite  the  dam 
,el  ?" 

••  Witli  Richard  Coulter,  captain   in   the   service  of  the  Stato 

:h  Carolina." 

Though    undouhtedly   anticipating  this  very  answer,  Dunhar 

,-d   the   annunciation  with   a   fearful   shriek,  as,  drawing  his 

1  at  the  same  moment,  he  rushed   upon    the    speaker.      But 

his  rage    Minded   him  ;   and  Klijah   Fields  was  one  of  the  coolest 

«»f  all   m.-rtals,  particularly  when  greatly  excited.      He   met   the 

'  I1    nhar  with  a  fearful  hufiVt  of  his  fist,  which  at 

felled  the  ;'.-.-ailant  ;  hut  he  rose  in  a  moment,  and  with  a  yell 
"f  fury  he  grappled  with  the  preacher.  They  fell  together,  the 
latter  uppermost,  and  rolling  his  antagonist  into  the  fireplace, 
uliri-  half  huried  among  the  emhers.  and  in  a 

cloud  of  allies.      In  tli'  r.  Ihinhar  contrived    to 

extricate  a  pistol  from  his  l>elt,  and    to   fire   it.      Fields  struggled 
up  fr..m  his  emiirare,  hut  a  torrent  of  hlood  poured,  from  his  side 
He  nished  toward  the  window,  grasped  the  sill  in 
his   1.  •':    his  hold,  and  sunk  down  upon  the  fl"or, 

I..v5i,--    bii  an  uproar  of  shots   and    shouts    from 

without.  In  the  next  moment  the  swords  of  Coulter  and  Ihin- 
har  •  his  prostrate  h.nly.  The  struggle 

It   had   nearly  terminated    fatally  to   Coulter, 
dii  h  Mie    still    insensihle    form  of   Frederica   in    hi^ 

In  the  .  a\oid  tramjding  upon  her,  he  atV< 

nu  advantage  to  h  .  which  nothi;  'ed   liim   from 

employing  to  the  utmost  hut  the  ashes  with  whicli  his  eye  \\cie 
still  half  Minded.  As  it  was,  he  inflicted  a  severe  cut  upon  the 

Mer  of  the  parti>an,  which  rendered  his  left  arm  tempo; 
nseles-.      Uu:  i  himself  instantly.      His 

in  fearful  viohi     e.       lie  raged  like  a   ;  ft]       V>rtli- 

men  —  aLsnlutely  m-'cke'!  the  danger  of  his  antagoni-tV  v,  eapou 
—  thrust  him  hark  :  the  house,  and  hewing  him 

alim»7    down  \\itl.  D    the    shoulder,  with  a 


306  SOUTHWARD  no! 

mighty  thrust  immediately  after.  IIP  absolutely  speared  him 
against  the  wall,  the  weapon  passing  through  his  hody,  and  into 
the  logs  behind.  For  a  moment  the  eyes  of  the  two  glared 
deathfully  upon  each  other.  The  sword  of  Dunbar  was  still  up 
lifted,  and  he  seemed  about  to  strike,  when  suddenly  the  arm 
sunk  powerless  —  the  weapon  fell  from  the  nerveless  grasp  - 
the  eyes  became  fixed  and  glassy,  even  while  gazing  with  ti 
appetite  into  those  of  the  enemy  —  and,  with  a  hoarse  and  stifling 
cry,  the  captain  of  loyalists  fell  forward  upon  his  conqueror, 
snapping,  like  a  wand  of  glass,  the  sword  that  was  still  fastened 
in  his  body. 

XI. 

WE  must  briefly  retrace  our  steps.  We  left  Richard  Coulter 
in  ambush,  having  so  placed  his  little  detachments  as  to  cover 
most  of  the  groups  of  dragoons  —  at  least  such  as  might  be  im 
mediately  troublesome.  It  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that 
he  could  restrain  himself  during  the. interval  which  followed  the 
entry  of  Elijah  Fields  into  the  house.  Nothing  but  his  great 
confidence  in  the  courage  and  fidelity  of  the  preacher  could  have 
reconciled  him  to  forbearance,  particularly  as,  at  the  point  which 
he  occupied,  he  could  know  nothing  of  what  was  going  on  with 
in.  Meanwhile,  his  eyes  could  not  fail  to  see  all  the  indignities 
to  which  the  poor  old  Dutchman  was  subjected.  He  heard  his 
groans  and  entreaties. 

"  I  am  a  goot  friend  to  King  Tshorge !  I  was  never  wid  de 
rebels.  Why  would  you  do  me' so  1  Where  is  de  captaine  ?  I 
have  said  dat  my  darter  shall  be  his  wife.  Go  bring  him  to  me, 
and  let  him  make  me  loose  from  de  rope.  I'm  a  goot  friend  to 
King  Tshorge!" 

"  Good  friend  or  not,"  said  the  brutal  lieutenant,  "  you  have 
to  hang  for  it,  I  reckon.  We  are  better  friends  to  King  George, 
than  you.  We  fight  for  him,  and  we  want  grants  of  land  as  well 
as  other  people." 

"  Oh,  mine  Gott !" 

Just  then,  faint  sounds  of  the  scuffle  within  the  house,  reached 
the  ears  of  those  without.  Clymes  betrayed  some  unaflsiness ; 
and  when  the  sound  of  the  pistoKhot  was  heard,  he  rushed  for 
ward  to  the  dwelling.  But  that  signal  of  the  strife  was  the  sig 


Tin:  MI-: i 

nnl  for  Conifer.     He  naturally  feared  tlial  his  comrade  liad 

TO,  and,  in  the  same  instant    his   rille   gave   the  signal   to 

they  had  heen  placed  in  ambush.     A! 
simultaneously  the  sharp  cracks  of  the  fatal  weapon  w 
tVi.m  for.,  '.lowed  hv  two  or  t' 

-hots      Coulter's   rifle  dropped    Clymes,  just    I 

•  •nd    the   steps  of  the    pia/xa.      A  second   shot 

from  i. ne  of  his  companions  tnmhled  the  provust,  having  in  charge 

<dd    8        .      His  remaining  keeper  let   fall   the  n.pe  and   fled   in 

Dutchman,  finking  to  his  knees,  crawled 

rapidly  to  the  opposite    s'uie  of  the  tree  which    had    heen  eh 
for   his   gallows,  where   he    crouched    ch'sely,  covering   his 
with  his  hands,  as  if,  hy  shutting  out  the  sounds,  he  could   shut 
;.ll    danger    from    the    shot.      Here    he    was   soon  joined    by 
the  African.     The  faithful  slave  hounded   toward    hig 
'inent  he  was  released,  and    hugging  him  first  with 
ugged    embrace,  he    pi  ;»   undo   the    degrading 

halter  from  ahout   his  neck.     This  done,  he  got  the  old  man  on 
11  further  among  the  shelter  of  the  trees, 
then  hurried   away  to  partake  in  the  struggle,  for  which  he 
provided  himself  with  a  gruhhing-hoc   and   pistol.      It  is  no 
!lo\v  and  watch  his   exploits;    nor  do  we 
it    the    several    results  of  each    ambush  which    had 
In  that  where  we,  left  the  four  gamblers  bu-y  at  OM- 
the  proceeding  had  been  nio.st  murderous.     One  of  Coul- 
men  had  heen  an  old  ICOnt      ,J..b   1"  |    notorim: 

vrn  delii.er.-ition  and  inetlnnl.      lie  had  not  been  content  to 
.an,  but  continued  to  rerolvc  UTOOnd  the  gamblers  until 
them,  both  of  whom   fell   under  his 
two  othe  Ion  n    hv  • 

pan!-  :      ber,      Tli.-  I'-nrth  to.-k    to  ];' 

:.  and    brained  with  the  butt  of  the  rille.      Th.  then 

hurried    to  ,,;! 

nrrangcment,  where  tl.  U)  their  frlL.v. 

A'Ofi  one  of  complete   surprise  and   rot 

uilly  ;    nine  of  them  wen-   slain 
•intright  —  not  ii,cludn._ 

At  the  moment  \\  hen 
Ming,  13 rough  had 


308  SOUTHWARD  no ! 

succeeded  in  bringing  tlic  old  coujilc  together.  Very  pitiful  and 
touching  was  the  spectacle  of  these  t wo,  embracing  witli  groans, 
tears,  and  ejaculations  —  scarcely  yet  assured  of  their  escape 
fi'.-m  the  hands  of  their  hateful  tyrant. 

lint  our  attention  is  required  within  the  dwelling.  Rapidly 
Vating  himself  from  the  body  of  the  loyalist  captain,  Coulter 
naturally  turned  to  look  for  Frederica.  She  was  just  recover* 
ing  from  her  swoon.  She  had  fortunately  been  spared  the  sight 
of  the  conflict,  although  she  continued  long  afterward  to  a.->rM 
that  she  had  l.'eei;  conscious  of  it  all,  though  she  had  not  been 
able,  to  move  a  limb,  or  give  utterance  to  a  single  cry.  Her 
-  opened  with- a  wild  stare  upon  her  husband,  who  stooped 
fondlv  to  her  embrace.  S3he  knew  him  instantly  —  called  his 
name  but  once,  but  that  with  joyful  accents,  and  again  fainted. 
Her  faculties  had  received  a  terrible  shock.  Coulter  hi): 
felt  like  fainting.  The  pain  of  his  wounded  arm  was  great,  and 
lie  had  lost  a  good  deal  of  blood.  He  felt  that  he  could  not  long 
be  certain  of  himself,  and  putting  the  bugle  to  his  lips,  he  sounded 
three  times  with  all  his  vigor.  A»  he  did  so,  he  became  con 
scious  of  a  movement  in  the  corner  of  the  room.  Turning  in 
this  direction,  he  beheld,  crouching  into  the  smallest  possible 
compass,  the  preacher,  Veitch.  The  miserable  wretch  was  in  a 
state  of  complete  stupor  from  his  fright. 

"  Bring  w;i'e; • !"  said  Coulter.  But  the  fellow  neither  stirred 
nor  spoke.  He  dearly  did  not  comprehend.  In  the  next  mo 
ment,  however,  the  faithful  P.rough  made  his  appearance.  His 
cries  were  those  of  joy  and  exultation,  dampened,  however,  as 
he  beheld  the  condition  of  his  young  mistrott. 

••  Fear  nothing.  Bn>ugh,  she  is  not  hurt  —  she  has  only  tainted 
But  run  for  your  old  mistress.  Run,  old  boy,  and  bring  water 
while  you're  about  it.  Run  !" 

"But  you'  arm,  .Ma.ss  JJick  —  he  da  bleed!      You  hu't  ?" 

"  Yes,  a  little away  !" 

Brough  was  gone  J    and.  with  a  strange  sickness  of  fear,  Coul- 

::rne<i  to  the  >p«.i  \\here  Klijah  Fields  lay,  to  ail  appearance, 

vlrad.      I'.u;   he  .--till  lived.      Coulter  tore  away  his  clothes,  which 

nated    and  already  stiff'  with  blood,  and  discovered    tho 

bullet-wound    in    his    b-lt    side,  well-directed,   ami    ranging   clear 

tiii-Mi-h  the  body.      It    I  BOIld  glance    to  .sec    that  the 


DBAT1  un:  309 

shot  was  mortal  ;   and 

preacher  opened    !  They  were,    full  of  intelligence,  and 

a  pleasant  smile  was  upon  his  lips. 

V     ,  ;  fatal.      I  had  a  pre 

sentiment,  when  we    parted    thi-  .:,  that    such  v, 

the   case.      Hut    I   complain  not.     Some  victim  perhaps  was  nc- 
ry,  and  I  am  not  unwilling.      Hut  Frederica?" 
:   unhurt  hnt  suffering." 
•    All  !   that  mon>' 

Hv  this  time  the  old  couple  made,  their  appearance,  and  Fred- 
j  at  om-e  removed  to  her  own  chamher.     A  few  HIM! 
sufhVed    to  revive  her,  and    then.  ring  that 

had  not  lieard  the  truth  in  regard  to  Coulter,  she  insisted  on 
going  where  he  w;;<.  Meantime,  Elijah  Fields  had  been  re 
moved  to  an  adjoining  apartment.  He  did  not  MM-IM  to  suffer. 
In  the  mortal  nature  of  his  hurt,  his  seiisihil:'' 

,tly  lessened.      Hut    his  mind  was  calm  and  firm.      He   1 
all  around  him.      }\\<  •_'••»/••  was  fondly  shared  1-etween  the  young 
couple  whom  he  had  >o  lately  united. 

•!ier."  he  said  to  them  ;    M  love  each  other  —  and 

'  me.      1  am  lc  D  —  leaving  you  fast.      It  is  pre- 

:.e  does  :  -  die  —  hut  I 

am  resigned.      I    have'  -always  in   self-defence — Mill 

I    have  taken  lii'e  !      1   ^--nM    that    I    had  never  done   so.      That 

:       M  t!i«-  Mood  upon  my  head.      M; 
in  the  Lord  Jesus.     May  his  Mood  atone  for  that  which  I 

1.      His  lips  move-!,  as  it  were,  in  silent   prayer, 
ked  out    r.pon    the    tw«.,  who    hunj;  with    strea: 
.\e    him.      "K  Uichard  —  ;:nd    y«»u.  Fred.erica  — 

children — I    have    loved  y,,u    alwa;.          Q  tl 

— ,,,,,!  —  me!"      1!  lent. 

(  )nr  story  here  is  ended..      We  need    not  follow  Hiehar 
ter  through  the  remaining  vicissitudes  of  the  \-  that 

he  continued  to  distinguish  himself,  rising  to  the  rank  of  major 
in  the  service  of  the  state  With  I 

•      the   farmhouse  of  hi-  I?i          r  him,  in 

J.ilitv,  tl,-  'vnuld    h:. 

ll    }n\t>    \\  hich    the  i 


310 

George  might  have  led  to  the  t  irrant  to  some  OIK 

devoted  to  the  house  of  Hanover.  It  happened,  only  a  few 
months  after  the  evacuation  of  Charleston  by  the  British,  that 
Felix  Long,  one  of  the  comnr  \vas  again  on  a  visit  to 

Orangeburg.     It  was  at  the  village,  and  a  considerable  number 
of  persons  had  collected.     Among  them  was  old  Frederick  > 
and  Major  Coulter.     Long  apj  -he  old  man,  and,  after 

the  first  salutation,  said  to  him — "Well,   F  have   we 

any  late  news  from  goot  King  Tshorge  ?"     Ti:.   ,,ld  Dutchman 
started  a*  if  he  had  trodden  upon  an  adder  —  gave  .1  1 
glance  of  indignation  to  the   interrogator,  and  turned  awav 
claiming—"  D— n  King  Tshorge  !     I  don't  care  dough  ! 
inure  hears  de  name  agen !" 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

«il.l.Mr>F>     \I."N<-    MK'KK    "F    THK    "l.I»    NORTH    ^TATE. 


\Y  ri  period  of  your  life,  been  a  c 

and  making 
your  way,  after  an  antique  fashion,  in  one  of  tl. 

' 

:i<l  times  have  bewailed  the  eternal  prospect,  the 
v  and  unpro!  ^  Inch  the  ..hi 

.mtinued  to  unfold  to  you: 

f,,r\\  :!ie  influence  of  contra  :; 

r-r  i;  it   all,  wi-  and  then   the  nev 

1  —  having  theret- 

native  tendency  —  >h'.;dd  t' 

-  ylla 

.ous  out- 
lin<'.     V  ith  at  night,  with  a  half- 

-   hulk  of  body  whicl'.  tho  good  old  state   ; 
IT  path,     ^i  -vith  the  H 

.d  — 

••  Ax  .me  l.imcntabh 

"Off  North  C  BT.*1 

k.  and  th«  Ifl  sho  lay  las>t  nig 

.  like 

that    to  the    !  3     :  -atl  had   recourse,  dreaming  it  a 

:  '  :  habitation. 

"  HHJM  »t  ..t'fi«h  that  «wim  the  OC«-HI>  »tn>nm.' 

ding 

Moh  of  t! 
son,  the  good  old  \ 

fully  indifferent  to 


312  SOUTHWARD    Ho! 

that  vulgar  thing,  called,  very  ridiculously,  ••  public  opinion." 
Angry  travellers  were  apt  to  assume  an  intellectual  sluggi-lm- -s 
on  tlu-  part  of  her  people  corresponding  to  that  which  her  vast  uut- 
line  along  the  sea  seemed  to  indicate  to  the  voyager.  That  she 
made  no  great  fuss  in  the  body  politic  — that  she  kepi  herself  out 
of  hot  water  of  all  kinds,  and,  in  proportion  to  the  exhibition 
of  morbid  energies  on  the  part  of  her  neighb'  !  all  tin- 

more  resolute  to  subdue  her  own  — these  were  a-sumed  as  proofs 
of  a  settled  mental  atrophy,  which  only  made  her  enonnouse  bulk 
of  body  show  more  offensively  in  the  eyes  of  tin-  impatient  traveller. 
He  visited  upon  her  genius  the  very  raBtneaa  of  her  dimensions, 
and  fancied  that  her  soul  was  small,  simply  because  her  physique  \\a> 
gigantic. 

"And,  by  the  way,"  answered  my  Gothamite,  "a  very  reasonable 
assumption  according  to  human  experience." 

"True  enough  "  interposed  our  orator  with  a  leer,  "as  instanced 
in  your  own  state  of  Gotham." 

Duyckman  felt  uneasy  and  looked  savage  for  a  moment.  The 
Alabamian  continued. 

"What  was  felt  of  tedious,  passing  the  shores  of  the  old  North 
State,  was  not  a  whit  lessened  when  you  took  the  land  route, 
seeking  to  shorten  the  progress  by  the  help  of  railroads  and 
locomotives.  A  more  dreary  region  than  the  track  from  Wil 
mington  to  Port-mouth  is  hardly  to  be  found  anywhere.  The 
region  through  South  Carolina,  from  Augusta  to  Charleston,  is 
bad  enough.  That  through  her  ancient  sister  is  a  fraction 
worse . " 

"Something  is  due  to  our  own  impatience.  Our  thoughts  do 
not  keep  progress  with  our  eye-.  Were  travellers  obsen 
which  they  rarely  are,  and  still  less  thinkers  upon  what  they  ob 
serve,  they  would  make  many  more  grateful  discoveries  along  the 
route  than  they  do.  He  who  geefl  from  Dan  to  IJeersheba  and 
reports  nothing  to  be  seen,  is  simply  an  animal  that  has  not  duly 
acquired  the  use  of  his< -\ 

friend,"  quoth  the  Alabamian  with  green   ey< "you    eyet 

have  been  indulgent.     1  havei:i<  ;  .    much  as  possible  to - 
thing  along  your  Carolina  route-.  1ml  to  iinle  profit." 

"  Perhaps,"  put  in  a  sharp,  pi  ppery  liti'h-  fellow,  \\hom  we  a f lei- 
ward  ascertained  to  be  from  the  old  .'••  himself. 


t  v  313 

"  perhaps,  you  did  all  your  seeing  through  those  tea  green  :-, 
tad 

"  1    sundy  li;i'.  •  •  alway.-  when  j^.v-ing  thr 

•ilia,"  answered  the  other  quietly.      "  It  was  needful  t" 
the  trees,  .-limbs,  fields  and  flowers,  something  "fa  natural  • 
If,  I  will    report    briefly  the   roult  of  several  p 

res*  _!i  that  state,  during  :!:<•  growing  season. 

ulmle   country,  so   far  as   its  agriculture  is  concerned,  sc« 
wretchedly  unpromising.      Tftc  glimp-e  here  and  there  of  , 
eralde  farm,  wa>  only  an  oasis  in  the  dc.-ert,  which  ina«:« 
of  the  country  more  and  more  di>ti es-ing  to  the  eye.      The  corn- 
field.-,  were  tew,  1  could  have  covered  half  «-f  them  with  a  table 
cloth,  and  the  crops  raised  seem  all  destined  for  the  markets  of 

Lapul 

:  -ita  .'      Where's  that,  I  wonder  ?"  ijitoth  North  Carolina. 
,.e\\lu-re  north  of  Brobdlgnag,  I  believe,  and  west  of  the 
troj.'  ,  en    the    equator  and   the     1  . 

by  the  central  fires  of  the  Equinox,  which    enables    ti 
to    raise    potatoes   and    bailey  with    c^ual    i'acility,  but    pre', 
them   from  growing   corn.      This   commodity,  of  which   tht 

.onately  fond,  eating  an  ear  at  a  mouthful,  and  chewing  the 
cob  at  their  leisure,  is  brought  to  them  only  once  a  year  by  die 

tin  (iullivcr,  a  native  of  Cape  Cod,  the  only  known   t; 
between  Laputa  and  North  Carolina.      1  should  not  be  Mirpri^ed 
if  he  i>  even  now  taking  in  a  Wilmington." 

11  1   never  heard  of  the  man,  and   I  reck-n  I  know  all  tl 

a,  captains  and  ships.    ,In>t  sav  now, 

,i  can  remember,  what's  the  vi-»d  called  that  ; 
irfw  wa>  the  (juiet  and  immediatr 
i->r   shallow  waters.    She  certainly   does   t. 
\\ilh  Xoith  (.'arolina  >omewhere  —  are  you  sir. 
her  all  the  names  of  the  thai  ply  t 

"Yon  have  a  ino.st  wonderful  memory,  my  friend.  —  I'.-. 
I'roia  the  cornfields  of  your  state.   1    am    | 

,s    little    fur  its  habitation-.      The  dwtdbn, 
ti.e  i  •         ^truetion,  and  ning,  or  ruld    . 

kino,  rare,  aln;  Ji  will  l;mi  them  al 

places  of  the  '1  D  '••     :       fruit,  the  pe.t> 


314  SOUTH  W.HII)    110  I 

and  apples  offered  us  along  the  route  were  Mich  as  nature  seemed 
to  have  designed  for  the  better  encouragement  of  Cholera, — a 
sort  of  bounty  offered  for  bile,  indigestion,  dyspepsia  and  riled 
intestines." 

"  But  that's  only  along  the  railroad  route,"  said  our  little 
North  Carolina  man,  "  and  who  ever  expects  to  see  a  decent 
country  along  a  railroad  route  in  any  agricultural  region  ?" 

Another  party  came  to  the  succor  of  the  North-Carolinian 
with  whom  0111  bilious  orator  was*  evidently  disposed  to  amuse 
himself* 

"  He  is  right.  You  will  form  a  very  erroneous  notion  of  this 
truly  valuable  state  if  you  assume  its  general  character  from 
what  you  see  along  the  railroad  route.  North  Carolina  is  e\  en 
now,  in  many  respects,  one  of  the  most  prosperous  of  all  the 
states.  She  lacks  nothing  but  population  to  exhibit  incomparable 
resources,  of  vegetable  and  mineral  treasure,  such  as  in  future 
days  shall  make  us  utterly  forgetful  of  California.  Penetrate 
the  interior  even  now,  and  you  will  be  rewarded  in  a  thousand 
places  by  the  beauties  of  a  careful  cultivation,  the  sweets  of  a 
mild  and  graceful  society,  and  the  comforts  of  a  condition  to 
which  want  and  care  are  strangers,  and  where  the  real  misfortune 
is  that  the  means  of  life  arc  so  easily  and  abundantly  found. 
North  Carolina  has  suffered  a  greater  drain  upon  her  population, 
in  emigration  to  the  {Smith west,  than  probably  any  of  her  At 
lantic  sisters.  How  often  have  I  met,  twenty  years  ago,  her 
poor  wayfarers  —  'from  Tar  River  or  thar' abouts,'  trudging 
on  by  the  side  of  their  little  wagons,  from  which  the  i: 
of  a  wilderness  of  young  ones  were  peeping  out,  thick  as  the 
dogwood  blossoms  in  the  spring-time.  The  surplus  population — 
the  natural  increase  of  this  state,  and  that  of  JSmith  Carolina 
and  Virginia  —  have  thus  for  thirty  ;  8D  carried 

off  to  the  nnrestoring  West;  and  it  is  only  within  the  la>i  seven 
that  the  torrent  seems  to  be  measurably  sta\ed.  The  pros 
perity  of  these  states  depends  in  great  degree  upon  the  arrest 
of  this  outflow;  —  since  all  the  improvements  ever  effected  in  a 
btate  —  all  of  its  newer  <le\  elopinents  of  resource  —  are  only  to 
be  made,  by  its  own  surplus,  or  natural  increase,  under  the  stim 
ulus  of  necessities,  the  result  ol  a  mure  crowded  condition,  and  a 
closer  competition  in  the  fields  of  labor  That  portion  of  a  pop 


Tin:   ALABAMA   guiz. 

nlati-".,  M  -t1  «)f  foity  sol. loin   achieve  any 

new  development  of  tlio  i ('sources  of  a  country.     To  hold  their 
own  —  to  lie.  what  they  have  hecn  and  keep  as  they  are,  - 
all  tl:  't<-d   at   their  hands.     But  they 

:c  than  i!  roimnunit 

jeneral  improvements,  and  as  individuals, 
.    equally  in  education  ami  in  prosperity." 
•  lad   to   hear  it,  hut   take   leave   to  doubt,"  responded   the 
man  of  bile.     "  You  are  evidently  an  enthusiast,  my  friend;  a 
word  in  your  ear — " 

II.-:.-  be  .-lid  up  to  the  previous  speaker,  looked  him  slyly  un 
der  his  given   spectacles,  gave   him  a  nudge  in  his  side,  and 

:  — 

••  D  :.';  1  know  1  Winkle  as  well  as  you  or  anybody 

-IM-.  hut  don't  .  ;t  this  little  fellow  don't  know  me.    We'll 

>ome  lun  out  of  hiu..  lie,  ha>  a  large  capital  of  patriotism 
out  of  which  we  shall  manufacture  many  a  broad  grin,  such  as 
would  di>  .  it  to  a  Wa*hington  politician.  Listen  now, 

while   I   touch  him  under  his  diaphragm. —  It's  something  of  a 
;s,"  he  resumed  aloud,  "to  be  discussing  North 
lina.     Du? —  •'••n.     Have  you  ever  been  to  Smith- 

[f  you  want  to  know  something  of  her,  go  to  Smithville. 
W.-         B   juit   into    that   port,  somewhat  in   distress,  making  the 
:i   to  New  York  in  one  of  those  cockle 
which  !'•  got   up  to   run    between   the  two  jdaces. 

Davy  Drown    I    think.      She  had  very  neaily  car- 
It  is  ;i  (iud'.s  nu-rcy  that   these  in; 

little    mantraps    had   not    gulfed   their   hundreds   as  did  the 

Well,    we  put  into  Smithville  —  a  gale    blowing  on 

children  squalling  in  the  cabin.     A  few  of  us  gut 

to  .shoie,  counting  on  an  oy>ter  supper.     We  met  a  fellow  >e\ni 

..igh,  with  his  Lack  against  a  hank  of  sand  that  kept  oil' the 

wind,  ubile  th.  t  of  an    old  cutter's   deck,  hang:: 

him  from  the  rain  —  all  .lippings  and 

leakage. —  Th-  :i  old  tin  ]••  ;'n  beside 

him    from  which    he    detache  '  •        t'  gum   tl 

gnaw  upon.      We  i,ne-tioncd  him  about  oysters. 
"  '  iv   ckon  id  ii.ird  to  iiml  \:m  now.' 
"•  Why  r 


310  SOUTHWARD    HO! 

"  '  Why,  you  see,  we've  done  cleaned  off  all  a  'ti-p.  ?nd  them 
down  low  in  the  water's  mighty  hard  to  come  at.  Don't  get 
much  oysters  at  Smithville  now.  Reckon  there  inought  have 
been  a  right  smart  chance  of  'em  long  time  ago  —  'bout  the 
Revolution.' 

"  '  Well,  do  you  think  we  can  get  any  broiled  chickens  any 
where  V 

"  '  Chickens  don't  do  so  well  at  Smithville.  I'm  thinking  they 
drink  too  much  of  the,  salt  water,  and  the  gravel's  too  coarse  for 
'em,  but  they  die  off  mighty  soon,  and  there's  no  cure  for  it.' 

" '  Eggs  r 

"  '  Well  now,  as  for  eggs,  somehow  the  hens  don't  lay  as  they 
used  to.  Folks  say  that  there's  a  sort  of  happidemic  among  the 
poultry  of  all  kinds.  They  don't  thrive  no  more  in  Smithville.' 

"  '  And  what  have  you  got  in  Smithville  ?' 

" '  I  reckon  there's  pretty  much  all  the  Smiths  here  that  was 
hen1,  at  the  beginning.  Old  granny  Pressman  Smith  lives  thar 
in  that  retlier  old  house  that  looks  a'most  as  if  it  was  guine  to 
fall.  'Lijah  Smith  keeps  opposite.  He  had  the  grocery,  but 
he's  pretty  much  sold  out  —  though  they  do  say  there's  a 
schooner  expected  mighty  soon  with  some  codfish  and  p'taters 
f-ir  him,  from  down  East.  Rice  Smith  owns  that  'ere  flat,  you 
sees  thar'  with  its  side  stove;  and  the  old  windmill  yander  with 
tans  gone  b'longs  to  Jackson  W.  Smith,  the  lawyer.  He's 
pretty  much  broke  up  I  hear,  by  buying  a  goldmine  somewhere 
in  the  South.  I'm  a  Smith  myself — my  name's  Fergus  Smith, 
but  I'm  the  poorest  of  the  family.  I  don't  own  nothing,  no 
how,  and  never  did.' 

*'  Now  there's  a  chronicle,"  said  our  orator.  "  Was  there  ever 
such  a  complete  picture  of  all  sorts  of  dclri.s  and  ruin?" 

"  But  Smithville  is  not  North  Carolina,"  was  the  reply  of  our 
little,  red-faced  native,  who  seemed  particularly  to  resent  this 
portraiture. 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is,"  was  the  reply  of  the,  orator,  coolly  spoken, 
and  without  .seeming  to  heed  the  evident  ruftling  of  the  young 
one's  plumage.  "1  baV€  ><-en  somewhere,"  he  continued,  "  a 
picture  of  the  old  North  State,  of  which  I  remember  just  tho 
heads.  DoubtleSfl  there  is  sonic  <  Xaggeration  in  it,  but  on  the 
whole  the  thing  is  true.  It  is  true,  in  generals  if  not  details— 


•\-\. 

true  tO  *1  ••     virit  uf  the  whole,  if  re;rardle<-  of  all 

IV6   had   a    picture   of  <he  Virginia!-,.      \Ve  can 
r  to  <>nc  of  the  North- Carolinian,  and  he  who  • 

ii"t  true,  \vil!    1  e  wi>.-  I  •.  not 

wholly  with  .lit   !..>dy  in  the  ! 

"  (>'  only  i-jestii  j 

"Jesti       .     '    !      I  never  je-t.      I  am   as   serious   as  tin-    : 

us,  an«l  !  . '-ept  in  a  thunfler- 

Bt.irm." 

"  Ain!  \vliat  i  le  tlien  .'" 

"To  b<        50  nnu'h  ado  ahout  nothing." 

••  ^1     u're  a  n.:.  11.  I'm  a  thinking.'' 

"  All  !  that's  a  jirartife,  my  voiinu'   iViend,  y-u   sli.-nld   not  in- 
dnli:"   in.      I>  U    \\ay.at   any   time,   in   search 

vain  tlii: 

••  V     :    '    n't  call  thinking  a  vain  tiling?" 

"  1'  tana  —  "iil\  it." 

••  1   don'1   rightly  under>tand  you." 

"The  fault.  I  Mispect,  N  rather  yours  than  mine;    and  I  don't 
how  we're  to  amend  it.     I  mu>t  leave  yni  to  yur  una-^i>ted 
el)«.rts;    and,  if  you  will   sutler  me,  1  will  roume  my  portrait  of 
tin-  old  North   .- 

"  That's  riL'ht  !      (Jo  ahead,  old  P>ile  !''  cried  the  Texan,  irrev- 
:ly.      The  Alahamian  glanced  at  him  from  under   his  green 

cles. 

.«•  yon  been  '-atiu^  eahha^e,  my  frieml  ?" 
"  Cahha-'r.  ii 

"  It  must  he  tl  ills  then!       '.  -wear  of!  iV'-in  <-ork- 

tail<  al:<i^i'tln-r,  T«-.\a<.  OT   Lr"    asid    ->••    viirself  .mother.      \ 
coinpl»-\i.,!i  is  rather  (\\>  \\  ear." 

'  d — n  the  comph  -1  hreexe  away 

with  wh.  Hurrah  for  nothii.  :  '" 

."  \\  as  the  CD..]  ivj  ';  now, 

lemen,  for  our  unknown  chronicler  «.f  the   .ii'ues  of  the 

.  hut 
you  will  excuse  my  involunt.i 

"  '  TllC    gei  h  r.'lina.  'early  mas 

culine.      He  !,  -t   VHl   ],. 

him   of  unnecessaiy  01   eiifeehling  d(  t.  he 


818  SOUTHWARD   HO  ! 

is  totally  free  from  affectation.  You  have  strong  smells  of  him 
before  you  approach  his  shores,  but  these  occasion  no  concern 
in—' " 

Here,  however,  a  be  .  rang,  which  seemed  to  have  some  pecu 
liar  meaning  in  it.  The  Texan  curled  himself  up  only  to  stretch 
away  for  the  cabin.  His  example  was  about  to  be  followed  by 
the  rest,  and  our  orator  seeing  this,  judiciously  proposed  that  we 
should  for  the  present  forbear  the  discussion  of  the  old  North 
State  for  the  more  grateful  discussion  of  the  supper  —  a  proposi 
tion  which  wao  carried  ncm.  con.  We  adjourned  to  meet  agair 


CHAPTER    XV. 

M  )RF    OF    THR    OKMUS    OP    THK    OLD    NORTH    STATK. 

•  WK  must  not  forget  our  pledges,"  said  the  sea-green  oia- 
t"r.  in  a  group  near  the  wheel,  after  sup 

per,  cigari  all  lighted.     "And,  if  not  too  full  of  better  stuff,  my 
;.">so  to  give  you  the  chronicle  of  the  old  North  State, 
of  which    1    have   spoken.     As   I   have  mentioned  already,  the 
matter   is  not   my  own.      I    gathered  it  from  the  correspondence 
of  a  traveller  in  some  of  the  new.-papei>.      It   seemed  so  truth 
ful,  so  appropriate,  and  confirmed  so  admirably  my  own  experi- 
.  that  I  memori/od  it  without  any  effort." 

u ing.  the  Alahamian  proceeded  with  his  narra 
much  a.s  follow*  :  — 

"'   :  lUU    of    the    old    North    State,'    said  he,  'is  deci- 

.    ma>culiiu-.      With  a  large,  physical   development,  he  is  as 
;i  as  totally  indifferent  to  its  uses.     Indif 
ference   is   his  -virtue.      He   would    he    as    little    interested   if  the 
tfl  which  lir  gave  forth  were   cologne   instead   of  turpentine. 
There  he  Mauds  01  lies,  an  enormous  waste  of  manhood,  looking 
out    upon    the  Atlantic.      Hi>    form,  though    hnlky,  is   angular  — 

•r  higher  than  the  i   one  leg  stai 

awkwardly    at    ease.       HU    l.reechrs.   you    percei\ . 

'on  —  e.jually    *hort    and    tight.      He    ha>    evi 
dently  outgrown  them,  hut    the    evidence    is   not  yet  apparent  to 
wn  mind.      His  meditations   have,  not  yet  conducted  him  to 
that   point,  when-    the   i  Hog  hiniM-lf  with  a  h.-t- 

ming   cut.  and   a   thoroughly  new  pa!  . 

up«>u  him  with  the  force  of  MUMP  sudden  supernatural  conviction. 
Wh.-n  they  do,  he  will  rn-rivr  Mich  a  shock  as  will  cover  him 
with  prrsphauon  enough  for  a  thousand  jrean,  He  stands  now, 
if  you  fo  .  in  pivtty  nearly  the  same  attitude  wine! 

maintained  when  they   \sere  runnin-  -veen  him 


320  SOUTHWARD    HO! 

and  his  northern  In-other  (Virginia)  to  the  great  merriment,  and 
the.  monstrous  guffawing  of  .the  latter.  Tie  carries  still  the  same 
earthen  pipe,  of  mammoth  dimensions,  in  his  jaws  ;  and  you 
may  see  him,  any  day,  in  a  fog  of  his  own  making,  with  one  hip 
resting  against  a  barrel  of  tar,  and  with  his  nose  half  buried  in 
a  fumigator  of  turpentine.  lie  is  the  very  model  of  that  sort 
of  constancy  which  may  at  least  hoast  of  a  certain  impregnable- 
ness.  His  tastes  ,ind  temper  undergo  no  changes,  and  are  what 
they  have  been  from  the  beginning.  The  shocks  of  the  world 
do  not  disturb  his  gravity.  lie  lets  its  great  locomotives  pas-; 
by,  hurrying  his  neighbor  through  existence,  and  congratulates 
himself  that  no  one  can  force  him  into  the  car  against  his  wili. 
lie  is  content  to  be  the  genius  of  tar  and  turpentine  only.  His 
native  modesty  is  quite  too  great  to  suffer  him  to  pretend  to  any 
thing  better. 

"  'The  vulgar  notion  is  that  this  is  due  wholly  to  his  lack  of 
energy.  But  I  am  clear  that  it  is  to  be  ascribed  altogether  to  his 

-yive  modesty.  He  asserts  no  pretensions  at  all  —  he  dis 
claims  most  of  those  which  are  asserted  for  him.  Some  ambi 
tious  members  of  his  household  have  claimed  for  him  the  first 
revolutionary  movements,  and  the  proper  authorship  of  the  Dec 
laration  of  Independence.  But  his  deportment  has  been  that 
of  one.  who  says,  "  What  matter?  I  did  it,  or  I  did  not !  The 
thing  is  done  !  Enough  !  Let  us  have  no  botheration." 

"  '  Do  y«m  ask  what  he  does,  and  what  lie  is?  You  have  the, 
answer  in  a  nutshell.  He  is  no  merchant,  no  politician,  no  Bra- 
tor;  but  a  small  planter,  and  a  poor  farmer — and  his  manufac 
tures  are,  wholly  aromatic  and  spiritual.  They  consist  in  tur- 

•ino  only,  and  his  modesty  suffers  him  to  make  no  hrag  even 
of  this.     His  farm  yields  him  little  more  than    peas  and   pump 
kins.      His   corn  will   not  match  with  the  Virginian's,   and    that 
is  by  no  means  a  miracle.     I  have  seen  a  clump   of  sunflowers 
near   his   entrance,   and   pokeberries    and   palma-christi 
.-abh-    varieties   in    his   shrubberies.      Of  groundnuts   lie, 
raises    enough    to    last    the    children    a   month  at  Christmas,  and 
M;jh  for  next  year's  acre.      His   pumpkins  are   of  pretty 
good  sixc,  though  I  have    not    seen    them    often,  and  think  they 

apt  to  rot  before  lie  can  gatln-r  them.  His  cabbage  invaria 
bly  turns  out  a  collard,  from  which  he  so  constantly  strips  thu 


SHIPPING    OF   THK   OLI>    Noli  ill   STATE.  821 

nndor  loaves  tliat  the  ilonu  grows  finally  to  he  nl 

tall  as  himself.      Hi-  eot$OH 

•  <>rt  in  BOH  ;is  as  not  to   permit  the  good  * 

inako.  more  than  sh..rt  hose  I'm-  herself  ami  little  ones.      His  his- 
t'trian  is  Shocc-o  Jones.'" 

"Where    the    <1 — 1    is    Shocco   Jones    now?"    was    the    in 
quiry   of  the   little    red-faced    native,  who  tried   to  ap; 
indifferent  to  all  that    the    orator  was    saying.      "  li  .veil, 

that  Jones.      Hi-  defence  of  North  Carolina  against  Tom  J«-: 

NS.IS    the  very  thin-,  and   I  have   seen   some   of  his   sket 
of  the  old  State  that  were  a  shine  above   Irving's." 

"  No  douht !   no  doubt  !     Jones  and  Smith  have  possibly  gone 

on   a  visit   to   their  cousin  ( Jennan,  Thompson.      To  proceed  :  — 

"'His    orators    are    Stanley    and    (Tmgman.    who    are    by   no 

means    letter    than    Webster   and    ('alhoiin —  and    his    shipping 

f  the  •'  Mary  and  Sally."  and  "  Polly  Hopkins '" 

'•  Ho    must    have    Othi  I    >aw  a  wreck    at    Smithville  in 

1835,  on  the  .-torn  of  which  I  read  'Still-Water.'" 
"She  is  there  still,"  said  the  orator,  "and   still-water  at  that, 
heaehod    in  1824  —  the  '  Sloeping    Beauty'  taking  her 
place,    between    ><jua;u    Island,    Duck's    Inlet,   Old    Flats,    and 
Smithtield,  till,  lin.  0    long  in  the  river,  tin;   tide  fell  and 

left  her  on  the    H ogix.se    Bank,  where  her  beauty  is  somewhat 
on  the  wane,      lint  to  proceed  with  our  authority — " 

"Your  authority  i>  an  abominable  falsehood  all  thr«. '-,-_'!. "Ut 
—  a  lie  of  whole  cloth,"  said  the  fiery  native  —  "so  let's  have  no 
more  of  it." 

"Goon!     Go  on  !  old  Bile  !      ItV  prime,  !"  quoth  the 

either,    the    Alabamian    proceeded    as    if  he    | 
reading  from  a  book  : — 

14  Wilmington  is  hi*  great  port  of  entry  —  his  city  by  th«- 

he  carriei  »\\  some  of  hi*  largest  manufacture.-,,  converting 
daily  into  turpentine  a  th..risan.i  f  the  od-: 

pret.-n-ion  than  elsewhere.      He 

has   lately  been  doing  them   up,  rebnilding  and  Jotouching  in  a 
that    shows    that    he  has    suddenly  •  ,;pon 

what  the  world  has  been  doing  elsewhere.      Th.-  ohangfl  ifl  leally 
not  in  unison  with  his  char.i  unnaturally  up-  n    liini. 

and  gives  him  a  .slightly  BdgCttj  .vhich  i>  no  v. 

11' 


322  SOUTHWARD    IK)  ! 

Tie   >eems  to  bo   ii:  >\!tli   an   idea   that  the 

world  requires  him  to  bestir  himself.  Tie  has  a  certain  respect 
for  the  world,  and  is  not  unwilling  to  do  what  it  requires,  hut  he 
\vly  and  awkwardly  about  it,  and  he  must  not  he  hur 
ried.  If  lie  can  accomplish  the  new  duty  without  disparaging 
the  old  habit,  he  has  no  objection,  but  he  seems  quite  unwilling 
to  give  up  his  pipe,  his  tar  barrel,  and  his  luxurious  position  in 
the  shade,  just  on  the  outer  edge  of  the  sunshine.  The  superfi 
cial  observer  thinks  him  lazy  rather  than  luxurious.  But  this  is 
scandal  surely.  I  am  willing  to  admit  that  he  has  a  Dutch  infu 
sion  in  his  veins,  which  antagonizes  the  naturally  mercurial 
characteristics  of  the  South  ;  but  it  is  really  a  Dutch  taste,  rather 
than  Dutch  phlegm,  which  is  at  the  bottom  of  his  failings. 

•• '  It  has  been  gravely  proposed  to  neutralize  his  deficiencies 
through  a  foreign  graffing,  and  by  the  introduction  of  a  colony 
from  Bluffton  in  South  Carolina  —  otherwise  called  Little  Gasco- 
11  y  —  and  no  doubt  an  amalgamation  with  some  of  the  tribes  of 
that  impatient  little  settlement  would  work  such  a  change  in  his 
constitution  as  might  lead  to  the  most  active  demonstrations.  It 
would  be  as  the  yeast  in  the  dough,  the  hops  in  the  beer,  the 
-•nne  in  the  broth.  The  dish  and  drink  would  become  rarely 
palatable  with  such  an  infusion. 

'"But,  even  if  we  allow  our  brother  to  be  indolent,  or  apathetic, 
.re  constrained  to  say  that  he  is  not  without  his  virtues. 
II>  chief  misfortune  is,  that  knowing  them  to  be  such,  he  has 
grown  rather  excessive  in  their  indulgence.  His  prudence  is 
one  of  his  virtues.  For  example,  he  will  owe  no  money  to  his 
hbors  at  a  season  when  states  beggar  themselves  in  the 
wildest  speculations,  and  dishonor  themselves  through  a  ba-e 
feeding  of  the  burden  of  their  debts.  Speculation  can  not  seduce 
him  into  following  their  foolish  and  mean  examples,  lie  be 
lieves  in  none  of  the  fashionable  bubbles.  Fancy  stocks  have 
no  attractions  for  him.  He  rubs  hi.^  forehead,  feels  his  pockets, 
and  remembers  his  old  sagacity.  Sometimes  he  has  been  be 
guiled  for  a  moment,  but  a  moment  only,  and  his  repentance  fol 
lowed  soon.  He  has  been  knoun,  for  example,  to  lay  down  a 
railway,  and  has  taken  it  up  again,  the,  more  eiVectnally  to  make 
himself  sure  of  b«-ing  able  in  meet  his  contracts.  His  logic  is 
doubtful  perhaps,  hi&  purpose  and  policy  never.  You  cau  not 


OPTN  p    NORTH    STATE. 

pull  him  into  v.  h-  thinks  N 

dlo  an  ill  -,„,  ]IU1(.1, 
inthedi;.                    '                 y.      And,  with    tin-  grateful    smell  of 

his  turpentin.  in    his   nostrils,  though  with    no 

'  in  maim:'  you  can  not  persuade  him  that  a 

•  rtive   tariff  is  any  such  n.                   bugbear,  as  when  it   is 
painted  on  the  canvass  of  h^  southern  >;iter. 

'"Of  this  southern  si>ter  he  is  rather  jealous.      She  is  too  mer 
curial    t.i  .  ther   to   his  liking.     Jl«-    think-   she  runs  too 
f  opinion  that  ;-\vard  in  her  hehavior  —  too 
much  so  for  his  notions  of  propriety.      A  demure  personage  him- 

he   dislikes   her  vivacity.      Even  the    gCMC  with  which 

couples  it,  i>  only  an  additional  danger  which  he  eschews  with 

warning  and  frequent  exhortation.     His  error  is,  perhaps,  in  •» 

Miming  her  in  exc.  way,  and  he  only  proper  in  the  opp.»- 

•xtreme. 

•  Al  little    prepared  is  he  to  approve  of  the  demeanor  of  his 
northern    hrother.     Virginia   is   none  of  his  favorites.     He  has 

r  been  satisfied  with  the  high  head  she  carries,  from  the  day 
when   that   malicious   Col.  Byrd,  of  Wotover,  made   fun    of  his 

•ners.*      The  virtue  of  our  North-Carolinian  m 

what    into   au>teiity.      \V.-    fear  that  he   has  suffered   somehow  a 

I  with  the    Puritans.      Hi>  prudence  is  sometimes  a  little  too 

cL.se  in  it>  eCODOBUAl,      ]\\<  proj.j  icty-  may  le  .-iispected  ,,f  Cold- 

;    and  a  very  nice  analysis  may  iind  as  much  frigidity  in  his 

ir'.ty  and  MUtibflity,      II.-    i|  unkind   to  noho.;- 
much   as  to  himself.      Ih-   puts  himself  too  much  on   short  * 

'      II.-    does   not   allow  f.. r  what    is   real!'.  us  in   his 

nature,  and  freezes  up.  aci-.-rdingly,  h-ng  before  thr  "  Yule  1 
i-  laid  on  the  hearth  at  Christmas.     His  possessions  constitute  him, 
in  wealth  perhaps,  no  le>>  than 

<>f  the  60  ha.-  fail  to  put  the  pi 

value  on  them.      His   mountains  —  of  which  we  shall   give  ; 

.-alul.rious    in   a   high  degi. 

t»,  1,1...  ..f  i 

from  n  e'-nuinc  wit  nml  hiiMmrNt,  nnt\  n  fnuik  nnd  nnr:ly  Smithron. 

•  .i  vittniiii*  piMitli'iniin,  IIHC 

>  to    .1.  tric'i,,!*,  ,,-e   nie  ti.j.  .eaju.i    fa   i  -.« 

maiii    no  corn.      i  uy." 


524  SOUTHWARD   HO  ! 

very  beautiful  to  tlic  eye,  and  full  of  precious  minerals  and  met 
als.*  But  his  metallurgists  do  precious  little  with  the  one,  nnd 
he  has  failed  to  commission  a  single  painter  to  make  pictures  of 
the  other.  He  has  some  first  rate  lands  scattered  over  his 
domains  —  thevalleysbetwe.cn  his  mountains  making  not  <M  \\ 
the  loveliest  but  the  most  fertile  farmsteads,  while  along  his-- 
southern  borders,  on  the  seaboard,  it  is  found  that  he  can  rai&e 
as  good  rice  as  in  any  other  region.  But  he  is  too  religiously 
true  to  tar  and  turpentine  to  develope  the  rare  resources  \\hieh 
he  possesses  and  might  unfold  by  the  adoption  of  only  a  moder 
ate  degree  of  that  /nnnn-nn-itl  impulse  which  the  world  on  every 
side  of  him  exhibits.!  He  has  tried  some  experiments  in  silk, 
but  it  seems  to  have  given  him  pain  to  behold  the  fatiguing  la 
bors  of  his  worms,  and,  averting  his  eyes  from  their  Bufferings, 
he  has  forgotten  to  provide  the  fresh  mulberry  leaves  on  which 
they  fed.  When  they  perished,  his  consolation  was  found  in 
the  conviction  that  they  were  freed  from  their  toils ;  with  this 
additional  advantage  over  men,  that  their  works  would  never 
follow  them.  His  negroes  are  fat  and  lazy,  possessing,  in  the 
former  respect,  greatly  the  advantage  of  their  masters. 

"  '  Our  North-Carolinian  will  be  a  lean  dog  always —  though  it 
would  be  no  satisfaction  to  him  if  the  chase  is  to  be  inevitable. 
from  the  leanness.  His  experience  refutes  the  proverb.  Certain 
ly,  the  contrast  is  prodigious  between  his  negroes  and  himself. 
They  have  the  most  unctuous  hu>k  of  .-ill  the  slaves  in  the  South 
—  and  would  put  to  utter  shame  and  confusion  their  brethren  of 
the  same  hue  in  the  Yankee  provinces  —  the  thin-visaed,  lank- 
jawed,  sunken-eyed,  shirking,  skulking  free  negroes  of  Connec 
ticut  and  Rhode  Island.  Our  North  Carolina  negro  rolls  rather 
than  walks.  His  head  is  rather  socketed  between  his  shouldon 
than  upon  a  neck  or  shaft.  When  he  talks,  it  is  like  a  ln-aled 
dog  lapping  —  his  mouth  is  always  greasy,  and  he  whistles  when- 

*  It  is  not  so  generally  known  that  the  only  diamonds  found  in  tl:.-  I'uiu-u 
States  have  been  found,  of  late  years,  in  North  Carolina.  Sonic  six  or  fi»ht 
have  been  picked  up  without  search,  attesting  the  probable  abundance  of  the 
region. 

t  Our  orator  must  not  for^t  tin-  i"-\v  railroad  progress  of  tho  old  NortK 
State.  It  strikeH  us  she  has  nhi-ady  turned  over  a  new  loaf,  and  piomines  to 
oecomu  a  moving  charurtei  Ku 


viiiTUi:  OF  TIII:  OLD  SOUTH  >TATE.  825 

ten,       II"  la  tin-  eml.lem  «»t';i  race  the  mo.-t   .-leek, 

fied,  ;in«l  .-.nicy  in   tin-  world.     You   .see  the  benevolence  of 

tin-  master    ill    tin-  condition  of  the  slave.      Hi-  derives  his  chief 

ments,    indeed,    from    -  humors   of  the   latter.     IIo 

been  chosen  l>y  Heaven  as  a  sort  of  guardian  of 

tin-  negro,  liis  chief  boBmeSf  being  to  make  him  happy. 

••  •(  >,ir  North-Carolinian,  with  all  his  deficiencies,  is  a  model  «  f 
licily  and  virtue.      His  commendable  qualities  are  hummer 
able.      II.  :uns  into  excesses.     You  will   never  see  him 

pla\  in-'  .lack  Pudding  at  a  feast     He  commits  no  extravagai 

\vill   never   lind   him  working   himself  to  deatli  for  a  living. 

II.-  i-  fcfl  moderate  in  ]•.'.  U  he  i>  jiatient  in  his  toils.     He 

M'tMiis   t«»   envy  nobo  i y .      Y-.u  can  >earcely  put  him  out  of  tem- 

JMT.       lie  i-ontrart>    ii"  ili-l.t.s,  and    is  suspicious  of  those  who  do. 

11.-  IM\-  ai  i  through  the  nose.     He  wastes 

.ipital,  if  lu-  in-vi-r  increabes  it,  and  his  economy  is 

such    that    he    never   tn»uhlrs  himself  to  furni.sh  a  reason  for  his 

conduct,  iked  for  it.      In  truth  he  is  almost  too  vir- 

f.-r  nur  tiuir.      !!«•   .-••cms  to  have  been  designed  for  quite 

!anrt.     lie  is  totally  unambitious,  and  though  you  may 

'ting  ahead  of  him,  you  will  be  morti- 

to  learn  from  himscdf  that  this  is  altogethei  because  he  pre- 

to  remain  behind.      lie  has  no  wants  now  that  I  remember, 

with  a  si-  -ptiiin.     Without  having  a  single  moral  feature 

in  common  with  1'  lie   perhaps  will  be  obliged  to  you  tf 

you  will  not  interrupt  his  Minshine.'  " 

•(  Well,  have  you  dom-  at  la.st  T'  demanded  the  fiery  little  so*- 
ofth-  .;er  appeared  to  pau>e. 

••  The  chronich-  .'  —  yes." 

••  Weil,  I'll  just  take   leave  to  ,->ay  that  it's  a  most  slanderoui 
and  lying  hi>t«.ry  from  hi-ginning  to  end." 

i\  -tiling." 

"  lint   what  is  there  that  you  deny  to  be  true?" 
••  \Vrll,  there'-,  th.-it  ali«. ut   our  .shipping.     Why,  instea  1  uf 
.   Wilmingt'  :ii«>re  nr  K-ss,  and   SOUK-   oi'  ' 

and  some  <»i  them  square-rigged    brij 
dites." 


326  SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 

"  I  admit  the  hermaphrodites.     I  have  seen  one  of  them  my 
Belf." 

"  Ah  !  have  you  ?  and  you'll  admit  the  brigs  and  schooners 
too,  I  reckon,  if  you're  put  to  it,  and  the  steamers.  Then,  too,  yo- 
don't  say  a  word  of  our  exports." 

"  Your  produce,  you  mean  !  Didn't  I  admit  the  pumpkins  and 
the  peas  ?" 

"  As  if  six  millions  could  be  got  out  of  peas  and  pumpkins." 

"  It  does  seem  a  large  amount,  indeed,  from  such  a  source, 
but  of  course  there's  the  tar  and  turpentine." 

"  I  say,  young  hoss,"  put  in  the  Texan,  "  don't  you  «€e  that 
old  Bile  is  just  putting  the  finger  of  fun  into  the  green  parts  of 
your  eye." 

"  Well  said,  son  of  Texas ;  the  figure  is  not  a  bad  one.  The 
finger  of  fun  !  —  green  parts  of  the  eye  !  Good  —  decidedly.'' 

"  He's  poking  fun  at  me,  you  mean  to  say." 

"  That's  it !" 

"  Well,  he  shall  see  that  he  can't  do  that  without  risking  some 
thing  by  the  transaction.  One  thing,  my  friend,  you  forgot  to 
say  about  the  people  of  North  Carolina  in  your  chronicle.  They 
won't  stand  impudence  of  any  sort.  And  now  I  have  just  to  ask 
of  you  for  an  answer,  up  and  down,  to  one  question." 

"  Propound !" 

"  Did  you  mean  to  make  my  state  or  me,  personally,  ridiculous 
by  what  you  have  been  saying  ?" 

"  Ridiculous,  indeed,  my  friend  !  How  can  you  imagine  such 
a  vain  thing.  You  are  quite  too  sensitive.  Your  self-esteem  is 
singularly  undeveloped.  Your  state  is  a  very  great  state,  after 
a  somewhat  peculiar  model,  and  no  doubt,  though  a  small  man, 
you  are  one  who  need  not  be  ashamed  of  yourself  or  your 
acquaintance." 

We  all  assured  the  young  Carolinian  that  there  could  be  no 
purpose  to  give  him  offence  —  that  the  Alabamian  was  simply 
•  •.-miring  to  amuse  the  company  with  a  salient  view  of  men 
-.IK!  communities. 

"  Put  lu-  shan't  do  so  at  my  expense. 

"  Oh  !  he  means  nothing  of  the  kind.' 

"If  he  did!" 

"  Well  !"  quoth  the  Alabamian.     "  If  I  did  !  what  then!" 


PROWESS    OF   THi:    ORATOR.  827 

.  ;.    Q    ;  only  try  it  at  some  j> 

Y  wliat  ?"" 

1  »f  a  fight   to  be  sure !     We'd  see  who  was  the  best   man 
niter  all." 

"There  ii  iomething  in  the  warning  t<>  prompt  a  por.-";i  tc 

:y.     The  rattle  announces   the  snake.      N 
my  friend,  oner  fur  all,  I  beg  leave  to  disclaim  all 

I    limply  SOUghl    to  enjoy    my  jest,  in    an  innocent 

.  and  t-i   anniM'  other    j  !t.      That  ought  to  be  suili- 

cicnt  ;    luit,  for  my  mvn   sake  and    self-e>teem,    I    must   add   that 

',  Christian   that   I  ••!,.      I  ,v.     I 

'»/  rather,  —  feel  skin  and    hair  both    raised  unnaturally  — 
when  I  am  threatened  ;  and,  a.s  for  a  light,  it  sounds  to  me  rather 
like  an  invitation   than  a  warning.     Were  you  iiow  t«- 
do  battle  with  n.e  how  would  you  propose  to  fight  ?" 

"Why,  if   1  :ly  anxious,  I   shouldn't  much  care   i. 

I  am  good  at  pi>tol  and  rifle,  and  have    heft    enough   for  a   _ 
bout  at  arms  length  wit),  a  bigger  man  than  myself." 

"Well,  my  good  fellow,  for  all  that,  you'd  stand  no  chance 
with  me  at  either.  I  should  whip  you  out  of  your  breeches, 
without  unbuttoning  mine." 

•I?" 

•   V.-.  I. 
We  were  all  now  somewhat  curious.     The  orator  did  not  look 
half  the  man  of  his  opponent. 

••  N     .  . "  -  .:  i    he,  ••  \\ithout    lighting,  which    wouldn't 

the    chance*    of  the    two.  you 

.i;d  lift    that  little    bra-  ,"    ji"intii,g  to  the  can- 

II  raptain's  bra/en  beauty." 
"I 

-<  !f.       /  can.      IMI! 

!  two  cbair>  that  stood  at  hand. 
••  II .-!  '  B   lirndy.' 

11'  1  in  the  twinkling 

.     .    .    - 
11   the  oil.- 
•••me  halt 

I  .  whc 

cd  too  f. . 


328  SOUTHWARD  HO! 

sons  for  several  seconds  sitting  upon  his  unsupported  body.  He 
stretched  out  his  anus  to  the  group. 

"  Feel  them." 

They  were  all  muscle  —  so  much  whip,  cord  and  wire. 

"  You  spoke  of  pistol  and  rifle,"  continued  the  orator.  "  You 
shall  have  a  sample  of  shooting."  He  retired  for  a  few  moments, 
and  returned,  bringing  with  him  a  large  case  which,  when  opened, 
displayed  a  beautiful  brace  of  pistols  and  a  rifle  of  elegant  pro 
portions  and  high  finish.  The  pistols  were  already  charged.  A 
bottle  was  thrown  into  the  sea,  and,  at  the  flash  of  the  pistol,  was 
shattered  to  a  thousand  pieces. 

"My  friend,"  quoth  the  orator,  "I  have  led  just  that  sort  of 
life  which  makes  a  man  up  to  anything  ;  and  the  use  of  the 
weapon,  of  every  sort,  is  natural  to  me  in  any  emergency." 

"  Well,  faint  your  muscle  and  strength  and  good  shooting  that 
would  keep  me  from  having  a  trial  with  you,  in  case  you  showM 
a  disposition  to  insult  me." 

"  But  I  avow  no  such  disposition,  my  excellent  friend  of  the 
old  North  State." 

"  Many's  the  man  that's  a  good  shot  at  a  bottle,  who 
can't  take  a  steady  aim,  with  another  pistol  looking  him  in  the 
-face." 

"  Nothing  more  true.  But  we  need  say  no  more  on  this  head, 
unless  you  still  think  that  I  designed  offence." 

"  Well,  since  you  say  you  didn't,  of  course,  I'm  satisfied." 

"I'm  glad  of  it.  There's  my  rist.  I  didn't  mean  oilem-e  to 
you,  my  friend ;  but  I  confess  to  amusing  myself  at  all  hazards 
and  with  any  sort  of  customer.  You  happened  in  the  way,  and 
I  stumbled  over  you.  You  are  a  clever  fellow,  and  1  don't  like 
you  the  less  for  standing  up  for  your  state,  which  is  a  clever  and 
most  respectable  state,  —  a  state  of  size,  and  some,  si/aide  steam 
boats  and  schooners,  —  not  forgetting  the  hermaphrodite.  And 
now,  let  us  have  a  touch  of  snake  and  tiger  together." 

"Where  were  you  born]"  demanded  the.  North-Carolinian. 

"  J  was  born  in  a  cloud  and  suckled  by  the  east  wind." 

"Oh,  get  out!      I  reckon  you're   cra/.y,  after  all." 

"I'll  defend  myself  airain.st  the  imputation  when  you'll  prove 
to  me  that  anybody  i>  <juite  sane.  It  is  but  a  difference  iu 
Uvgree  between  the  whole  family  of  man," 


ANTIQUITIES   OF   SMITHVILLE.  329 

i 
What's      oui  >erved,   1    reckon,  hi    tin 


anm 

V--S,  as  a  ranger." 
•    He-en  in  many  fights?" 

A  few.     The  last  I  had  was  with  seven  Apache  Indians.     I 
lie  revolver,  a  six-barrel  —  " 

•  Well  r 

1  killed  s  x  of  the  savages." 
An.!  the  seventh  ?" 

••IK-  killed  me  !  —  And  now  for  the  snake  and  tiger." 
The  two  disappeared  together,  steering  in  the  direction  of  the- 
bar.      When  thev  next  joined   us,  the  North-Carolinian  had  his 
arm    thrust    lovingly  through   that  of  his  tormentor,  and    camo 
I'nrward  laughing  uproariously,  and  exclaiming:  — 

"Yon   should   have   heard   him.      Lord,  what  a  fellow  !      He's 
mad  as  thunder  —  that's  certain;    but  he's  got  a  mighty  deal  of 
in  him,  in  spite  of  all." 

•  We  are  about  opposite  Smithville  now/'  said  our  captain,  as 
Alabainian  came,  up.     The  latter  turned  to  the  North-Caro 

linian,  and,  with  a  poke  in  his  ribs,  said  :  — 

••  You  thought  me  quizzing  your  state,  when,  in  fact,  I  have 
more  reverence  for  its  antiquities  than  any  person  I  know. 
This  place,  Smithville,  for  example,  1  have  studied  with  great 
industry.  It  was  .settled  —  perhaps  you  have  heard  —  by  the 
fn>t  man  of  tin-  name  of  Smith  that  came  out  of  Noah's  ark. 
It  is  supposed,  indeed,  to  be  the  very  spot  where  the  ark  r< 
when  the  water*  subsided.  There  is  an  old  windmill  ; 

n,  ami  the  im»t  pietures(|ue  uhjcct  in  the  place, 
which  is  referred  bark  to  the  period  when  Noah  carried  three 
sheets  in  the  wind.  The  people  here,  of  course,  are  all  named 
Smith." 

••  (  )h.  that's  a  mistake,  my  dear  fellow,"  put  in  the  North-Caro 
linian.      "You  have  been  imposed  upon.      /  kn<>\v  the  plan-. 
know  that    the    Buttons    1'u  ,  nid    the    Black  family  .    and 

there's  another  family  -  ' 

.  er  mind  —  it  is  you  wh-»  are  mistaken.      They  are  n-aliy 
all  Smiths,  however  much  they  ma\   di.-guiM'  and  deny.      There's 
a    family    likeness    running   through    all  of  them  which    nobody 
>:c.'' 


330  SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 

••  Tliai'o  true.     There  is  such  a  likeness,  I  admit." 

"  Of  course  you  must  admit.     Everybody  sees  it.     Th< 

der  is,  that,  boasting  such  a  great   antiquity,  they  are  so  little 

3.     Their  enterprise  is  limited  to  an  occasional  \}>\i  to 

tiie  nk,  where  it  is  said  they  will  feed  for  some  hours 

at  a  stretch,  but    they  never  trouble  themselves  to  carry  any  of 

the  fruits  away.      The  pearl-fisheries,  which  conjecture  supposes 

to  have  been  very  active  here  at  one  period,  were   discontinued 

and  lell  into  neglect  somewhere  about  the  time  of  the  Babylonian 

captivity.     .Smithville  is  a   place   that   should   largely  command 

veneration  of  the  spectator,  apart    from  its  antiquity  of 

the,  antiquities  which  may  yet   bo  found  within  its  precincts 

piopcr  exploration  ;   it  is  a  study  tor  the  ethnologist.     Tin  re 

is  one   peculiarity  about  the  race  —  all  the  children  here  are  old 

when  they  are  born.     The  period  of  gestation  seems  to  be  about 

eighteen   years.     The  child   is   invariably  born   with   a   reddish 

mustache  and  imperial,  and  a  full  stock  of  reddish  hair." 

"  I '.less  me,  what  a  story!  Why,  how  they  have  imposed 
upon  you,  old  fellow  !  I  tell  you,  I  myself  know  the  families 
of  Button  and  Black,  and  —and  they  all  have,  children — real 
children,  just  like  any  other  people's  children  —  little,  small, 
helpless,  with  hardly  any  hair  upon  their  heads,  not  a  sign  of  a 
moustache,  and  the  color  of  the  hair  is  whitish,  rather  than 
reddish,  when  thev  are  born." 

The  assurance  was  solemly  given  by  our  Carolinian. 

"How  a  man's  own  eyes  may  deceive  him  !  My  dear  friend, 
you  never  saw  a  child  in  Smithville  of  native  origin  at  all. 
The  natives  are  all  full  grown.  If  you  saw  children  there  — 
ordinary  children  —  they  were  all  from  foreign  parts,  and  griev 
ously  out  of  their  element,  1  assure  you.  Your  sti-pposed  facts 
must  not  be  allowed  to  gainsay  philosophy.  1  repeat,  the  re 
gion,  on  this  score  of  idiosyncrasy  in  the  race,  should  attract 
the  ethnologists.  In  mere  antiquities  —  in  the  proofs  of  ancient 
art — it  is  also  rich.  1  have  found  curiously-wrought  fragments 
of  stone  there,  —  sharp  at  the  edges,  somewhat  triangular  of 
• — " 

"Nothing  but  Indian  arrow-heads,  I  reckon." 

•My  friend,  why  expose  youi.-elf/  Tl  ey  were  sacrificial 
implements,  no  doubt.  Then,  curious  vases.  •••  fragment*  «4'0 


THK  SUITOR. 

to  lie  still  pic!  ire  probably  employed  for  sacred 

purposes  in  tin-  temples  "f  their  | 

••  AJ  I  live,  <»1«1  Bile,"  >aid   -he  Texan —"  nothing  but   Injun 
:id  pans  f.»r  hiling  hominy." 

TeXftfl —  blanket  thyself  and  he  silent 
Tin-   present  inhabitants  of  Sniithvillc  are  certainly  t1 
thojies —  natives  of  the    soil.       They    have    never  known    any 
Smith  is  said   to   have   been  a  common  name 
.ig  the   Phoenicians.     Its  founder  was    undoubtedly  Tubal- 
It  is  fortunate  that  we  have  a  place  like  Smithville.  des 
tined    f.ir  its    perpetuation.     We    are,  unhappily,  fast    losing   all 
trace.-   i'f  the  venerable    name   in   every   other   quarter  of  the 
conn! 

"Why  how  you  talk!     There  isn't  a  name  so  common  as 

;h  in  all  our  country." 

"  Ah,  my   deai  fellow  !    do  you  not  see   that  you  are  giving 
of  what  I  said  touching  Sniithvillc,  that  all  the 
-  were  grown  men  at  birth  ?" 

••  .meliow  a  fling  at  me,  I  reckon  ;  hut  I  sha'n't  quar- 
nd  with  you,  no\\    I  know  you." 

lifl  moment,  the  tender  tinkle  of  the  guitar,  in  the  hands 
of  Selina  Burroughs,  announced   that  my  friend  Duyckman  had 

:    and  we  gathered  around  the  ladies, 

and   the  misel.  -ling  of  our  Alahamian  ceased   for  ;i 

v-"ii.  —  but     only    for    a  .img    ladv    sa 

:ly  on»    of   Anaercon  Moore's  hest    1;-  •  ..mj,;mi,. 

n:y  fiicnd  from  (iotham.      When    -he   had   done,  to   the  MIL 
of  all,  (Mil    orator,  who    seemed    quite   a  universal 

uj)  the    guitar  when  th-  laid    it  down,  and,  without 

apology  or  preliminary  of  any  kind,  gave    us  the  following  sam- 
inock-heroic  with  equal  arehiu-s.s  and  etlect:  — 

THB    ANCIBNT    M'lToi;. 

OLD  Timr-  wn»  an  HDcicni  iuitor, 

U  .«  . 

Still  k«  pi  to  tlif  gnw«  of  IMS  tutor 

And  h.-M  time  all  (astiioi,  ^^ 
H»"  '  tbi  t«ilor», 

T 


832  SOUTHWARD   HO  ! 

And  with  person  as  lingo  as  a  whaler'*, 
His  person  ho  never  adorn'd. 

Sing  —  Out  on  that  ancient  suitor. 

What  chance  couM  he  have  with  a  maiden 

When  round  her,  the  gallant  and  gay 
Came  flocking,  their  bravest  arrny'd  in, 

Still  leading  her  fancies  astray  I 
But  he  studied  the  chapter  of  chances 

And  having  no  green  in  his  eyes, 
He  gallantly  made  his  advances, 

As  if  certain  to  carry  the  prize. 
Sing — Hey  for  that  ancient  suitor. 

But  his  beard  had  grown  whiter  than  ever 

He  still  made  no  change  in  his  dress 
But  the  codger  had  Anglican  clever, 

And  was  confident  still  of  success; 
And  the  ladies  now  smiled  at.  his  presence, 

Each  eagerlv  playing  out  trumps, 
And  his  coming  now  conjured  up  pleasance, 

Where  before  it  but  conjured  up  dumps. 
Sing — Ho  for  that  ancient  suitor! 

And  what  were  .the  aits  of  our  suitor? 

Why,  the  simplest  of  all,  to  be  «ure 
He  took  up  Dan  Plutus  as  tutor, 

Dan  Cupid  he  kicked  from  the  door. 
Still  sneering  at  sentiment-gammon, 

He  found  that  whene'er  he  could  prove, 
That  his  Worship  found  favor  with  Mammon, 

His  worship  found  favor  with  love. 
Hurrah!    for  tnat  ancient  suitor! 

"  Oh  !   most  lame  and  impotent  conclusion,"  cried  the  l;ul y 
An  old  and  stale  scandal." 

"  What  a  slander  of  the  sex,"  echoed  Gotham,  looking  more 
sentimental  than  ever. 

"  I  have  given  you  but  a  true  and  common  history,"  answered 
the  orator.  "It  is  within  every  man's  experience;  but  here's  a 
that  occurred  in  one  of  our  own  villages.  The  ladies  tin  -re 
admit  the  fact  to  be  undeniable,  though  they  assert — Cm/at 
Judrpus  !  —  that  the  world  can  show  no  other  sm-h  marvellous 
example." 

Here  he  again  lingi'i-cd  the  guitar  with  tin-  case  of  one  who 
had  mastered  all  its  pulses,  ;md  sung  the  following  historical 
ballad,  which  he  i-ali.-  !  — 


IVVITATfnX    OF    WIDOWHOOD. 


LOVE'S    CONTINGENT    REMAINDKR. 

AT  eve,  when  tin-  young  iiinon  was  shining, 
And  tlii>  South   wind  in  vrhispeM  arose, 

A  youth,  hy  (!•••  smooth  rtiram  reclining, 

Thus  poiirM  forth  tho  itream  of  his  woes; — 

'  I  sigh  rind  I  sing  lor  tho  maiden. 

Who  dwells  in  tho  depth*  of  yon  prove; 

N    :  the  lily,  itn  whiteness  array'd  in, 
So  beautiful  seems  to  my  : 

An~  ihe  maiden,  she  drank  in  the  ditty 

With  keen  sense  and  a  tremulous  heart  : 
But  then-  dwelt  an  old  man  in  the  city, 

And  he  in  her  minings  had  part: 
Shf  answei'd  love'*  -song  hy  another, 

To  t!ii-  MTV  -:mif  air,  hut  long  sweet, 
Ami  -  which  she  Ktniiipled  to  •mothei 

Found  tin  ir  way  to  tin-  youth  at  her  !• 

Ah  !    Dirk,  I  confess  you  aie  dearest, 

But  then  you  can  huy  nothing  dear; 
Your  rton^'  is  the  swe.-test  and  clearest. 

And  I  dole  on  your  whiskers  and  hair; 
But  then,  the  old  man  in  th«-  city, 

Has  l>onds  mid  hank-notes,  and  a  store, 
Sin  li  po«».-.-nioii>,  Imth  rosily  and  pretty, 

And  In-  promises  -.'old  in  galore. 

With  you  I  should  find  love  in  marriage, 

But  love  i<«  poor  feeding  alone; 
With  him  I  have  horses  and  carriage  ; 

With  you  hut  a  crusl  and  n  hone; 
)••  no  time  to  consider, 

Still  pi'-xsing  with  tongue  and  with  pen, 
Bui  .•*  me  a  widow, 

Oh  '    l)i'-ky.  come  sing  to  me  t!.. 

ami  worse  !"  cried  the  lady 
and  truer,"  answered  tlio  orator. 
"  Bl<    -  DH6,  sir,  for  what  icas..n  is  it  that  you  so  hato  OQ1 
••  ilatr    \oin-    MX!      Nohmly    loves    it    letter.      I    Imve 
married  three  tiin< 

Thai    accounts    for    it    all!"    rjunth  CJofliMin.  \<>tt,>  we,   with 
the    f.M'lin^    of  one  wh«»   i<    amply  avrii^cd.      Selina 
whispered  — 


£84  SOUTHWARD    DO  ! 

"The  danger  rfecms  to  be  that  he,  will  leave  just  such  an  in 
ecription  upon  his  monument  as  the  Hon.  Mr.  Cnstis  of  the  East 
ern  Shore." 

There  was  a  pan 

"  Xo  story  to-night?"  inquired  one  of  the  partv. 

"  By  the  way,  yes  —  and  our  friend  here  from  North  Carolina, 
has  been  appointed  to  deliver  it." 

With  a  thousand  excuses  and  apologies,  some  stammering  and 
much  confusion,  our  fiery  little  companion  commenced  his  task, 
in  a  legend  of  the  North  Carolina  shore,  which  he  entitled 

THE  SHIP  OF  FIRE. 

"  THE  State  of  North  Carolina,  the  assumed  poverty  of  which  in 
material  resources,  and  in  mind,  has  been  a  little  too  much  dwelt 
upon  by  some  portions  of  this  company,  is,  nevertheless,  quite 
as  rich,  in  all  respects,  as  any  of  her  sister  states.  Her  deficiency 
seems  to  lie  in  her  want  of  a  seaport  of  capacity  equal  to  her 
product,  and  in  the  lack  of  a  population  sufficiently  dense  for  her 
territorial  magnitude.  We  may  never  be  able  to  supply  the 
one  deficiency,  except  possibly  by  railroads  which  shall  give  us 
the  free  use  of  the  harbors  of  our  sister  states;  but  the  latter 
will  be  developed  on  a  magnificent  scale,  so  soon  as  the  popula 
tion  shall  become  sufficiently  dense  for  the  due  exploration  and 
working  of  our  soil.  Our  productions,  as  the  case  stands,  must 
now  amount  to  fully  eight  millions,  sent  to  market  along 
shore.  And  this,  be  it  remembered,  is  pretty  much  a  sur 
plus  production.  As  an  agricultural  community,  North  Carolina 
supports  herself  apart  from  what  she  sells.  Of  the  morals  of  the, 
people  of  our  State,  T  have  only  to  say,  that  they  shrink  from 
comparison  with  none.  We  do  no  startling  things,  but  we  r..b 
no  exchequers.  We  attempt  no  wonderful  works,  but  we  repudi 
ate  none  of  our  debts.  In  brief,  we  owe  no  debts.  There  is  no 
State  in  the  Union  quite  so  independent  as  North  Carolina.  You 
may  smile  at  her  simplicity,  but  yon  must  respect  her  horn 
You  may  see  something  green  in  her  eye,  but  nothing  jaundiced. 
If  goaded  by  no  wild  ambition,  she  is  troubled  with  no  ex 
of  bile.  Her  brains  may  never  set  rivers  on  lire,  but  they  are 
sure  not  to  blo\v  nj»  her  locomotive. 

"Bui,  even  in  ei;tci -prises.  Mich  a  laigety  assumed  to  bf 


Tin 

nf   moral  In  proportion  to 

i^tli    «»f  her   population,  her   ia:lroads   are   as   exte 

iid  v  lien   ; 

stretch  "flier  territory  and  tin'  difficulties  of  her  situ, 
lacking  an  eligible  seaport,  she  lias  done   more    ami   better 
than  m  si    II  us, making  moi  :  the 

:    tar   ami    tin:  .ill  put  to   shame   those   of   • 

:,'!    cotton  ;    and    our    railn 

'  «  which 

hith  ---I  nothin.:.      1  -morals  of  her  peo 

ple,  their  phy-  ,  their  virtues  and   advance   in   . 

i   shrink  in  comparison  with  noi. 
g  of  (his  conft'drra- 

••  Uravo  !  —  .spoken  like  a  patriot!      Hut  what  of  the  stor\ 
this  time?" 

••  1'atiently  :    I  had  first   to   {ling  off  some  of  the   feeling:  with 
which  yon,  >'..  --en    stirrinjr   me.   up   ahout   my    good   old 

State  for  the  la.-t  twenty-four  hours." 

••  \V.dl      \ "U  have  relieved  \«.ur>elf?" 

haps:   hut  a  l'e\v  wm-ds  mon-,  hefore  I  he^in  my  legend. 
.11  not  say  anything  here   ahout  our  lack  of  literature   in 

iiolina.  since  tlu-  ai^unient  i  [j  heLn^s   to 

of  the  Southern  States  —  in  fact,  to  all  the  States  —  our  national 
•ill  a  reproach  to  us  in  tin-  mouths  of  other  na 
tion*.     When  the  nation,  as  a  whole,  shall  he  ahle  to  ans.ver  thU 
rily,  it   will    then   he    quite    time    enough   for 
North  Carolina    to   show  her   solicitude  as  to  what  people  think 
of  her  shortcomings." 
"  Quite  logical  t : 
••  I    have   mi  doul.t  that  the  native  genius  of  the  old 

'1  liring  her   intellectual    wares   into   the   market   in   due 
86ason  f.»r  her  reputation." 

you  plea>e.      Her  \:  ;'. 
for  the  future  author  and   arti-t.  rich   in   tradi; 

,d  only  lack  ti 

will    he   found   as   soon    a.-   our  rommunities   .shall 
cieutly  dense  and  i, 


J36  SOUTHWARD   HO! 

"  Meanwhile,  we  will  put  off  tlic  requisition  ad  Grcrcas  Red 
ffiJax.  The  argument  is  a  good  plea  for  all  the  states  if  ad 
missihle  in  the  case  of  one.  I  doubt  its  propriety.  1  am  not 
prcpued  to  believe  in  that  inspiration  which  waits  upon  the 
gathering  of  the  audience.  But  the  point  needs  no  discussion. 
Go  ahead  with  your  story." 

"My  story  must  excite  no  expectations.  I  am  no  artist,  and 
shall  attempt  nothing  but  a  simple  sketch  —  a  hare  outline  of  .-« 
»egend  which  om  simple  people  along  the  >eashore,  wrerkers 
and  fishermen,  have  told  a  thousand  times  with  grave  looks  and 
a  most  implicit  faith.  It  will  add  hut  another  chapter  to  the 
vast  chronicles  of  credulity  which  we  possess,  ami  >kepti. 
will  decide  against  it  only  as  further  proof  of  human  supersti 
tions  which  keep  their  ground  even  in  the  most  enlightened 
ages.  Be  it  so.  The  wise  man  will  find  much  occasion  for 
bought  even  where  the  subject  is  a  vulgar  superstition.  The 
mventive  genius  may  go  further,  and  weave  from  it  some  of 
those  beautiful  fictions  which  need  no  better  staple  than  tho 
stuff  which  dreams  are  made  of — which  delight  us  in  the  faiu-ir^ 
of  Comus,  and  carry  us  into  new  creations,  and  new  realms  of 
exploration  in  the  Tempest  and  Midsummer  Night's  Dream." 

Thus  far  the  preliminaries.     Our  raconteur  then  proceedeo 
as  follows :  — 

"  You  are  then  to  know  that  annually,  at  a  regularly-recur 
ring  period,  the  coast  of  North  Carolina,  even  the  very  routo 
over  which  we  voyage  now,  is  visited  by  a  luminous  object  hav 
ing  the  exact  appearance,  at  a  little  distance,  of  a  ship  on  fire. 
This  appearance  has  been  seen  regularly,  according  to  the  tra 
dition,  and  the  fact  has  been  certified  by  the  sworn  state 
ments  in  recent  times,  of  very  credible  witnesses.  They  ailirm 
that  nothing  can  be  more  distinct  than  the  appearance  of  this 
ship,  limned  in  fire,  consuming,  yet  always  unconsumed.  She 
invariably  appears  approaching  from  the  east.  She  sp 
slowly  toward  the  west,  nearing  the  shores  always  until  seem 
ingly  about  to  run  aground,  when  she  disappears,  for  a  moment, 
only  to  re-emerge  again  from  the  distant  east.  Tims  advancing 
perpetually,  she.  appears  to  grow  in  bulk  to  grow  more,  vivid 
and  distinct  as  she  draws  nigh,  until,  when  most  perfect  to  tho 
eye.  and  about  to  entn  th«-  barbor  —  when  she  Hits  from  sijfht 


THI:  PALAtn  337 

only  to  she  >t  up  in  the  di-tanee  and  renew  her  fiery  progress  to 
the  shore. 

"Every  part  of  her  SIM-IMS  abla/e.      Hull    and    gunwale,  ma.U 
and  spar,  sail  and  c  !1  distinctly  defined  in  fiery  mass 

nnd  outline.     Yet  .11  to  burn.     No  fiery  ti 

.d.  no  smoke  darkens  her  figure,  no  shroud  or  -ail  fall-,  no 
le  change  takes  place  in  her  fate,  or  dimensions  —  and  thus 
perfect,  she  glides  onward  to  the  shore,  glides  along  the  shore, 
skirts  the  breakers  into  which  she  appears  about  to  penetrate, 
then  suddenly  goes  out  ;  hut  only,  as  I  have  said,  to  loom  np 
om-e  more  up,,n  the  ea-tern  edge  of  the  sea.  This  operation 
continues  for  twenty-four  hours,  one  day  in  every  y- 

"  1'dr-.  me,  ho\\-  curious.     I  wish  we  could  get  an  exhibition  of 
It  now.      I-  it  a  regular  day  in  the  year  on  which  it  appears?" 

*8o  il  1,  but  I  do  not  recollect  the  day,  and  I  doubt 

if  our   chronicles  determine    the    fac*t.      But  the   atlidavits  of  re- 

B  the   date    on  which    they  declare    thein- 

i  the  spectacle,  and  that  day,  each  year,  may 

C  i  to  l,e  th ie  on  which  it  annuallv  reappear-." 

••  \Vell.  how  do  they  arc, Mint  for  this  singular  exhibition  .'" 
"  In    the    following   manner.      The   tradition,  I    may   add, 

.  and   the   historical   facts,  so   far  as   they  may,  are 
found  to  confirm  it. 

"The  burning  ve-xd  is  kno\\n  a-  '  The  -hip  of  the   1'alati: 

.ie    time    during    ti.  of   the    Fir.-t 

:  !,  and  when   it  wa-  the  anxious  p..licy  of  that 

monarch  emigration    to    the  Southern  ( 'olonies,  a 

that    class    of  colonists  who  were    known    a- 
atin.s  '  having   cmne    from   the    Palatinate,  ar: 
in  I-'  -king   me  America.      They  \\eiv 

taim-d  for   a  time   at    the  public  .  ,  see)  couhl   be 

'-'ha;'  'heir  u-e,  when    they  t«",k    their   dej.arture  for  the 

^    'ill.      The  public  policy  made   it  comparative!-. 
;.ide  the  cn.un  to  this   sort  of   lihi-ralitv  ;  and  BUCOOI  ««f   this 
char;.  jiiently  accorded    to    th:-  I    adventu 

\\li-»  were  rappOfled  tO  have  a  special  claim  on  the  l.oiint\   ol  the 
inn  monarch  ..f  the  KnglMi        1  •  •      !:i  the  |>i. 

the    ajij  \city    so    c.-minon    (<>   tlieir 

•   sttuliou^  ,a-t   that   they  hud 


838  :ii\YAKi>  no! 

any   resources   of  their  own.      But,  as   uMial,  in    all   such    cases 
they  were  fai  '.uite  than  they  avowed  themselves.     Oiu 

Palatines,  on   this   occasion,  were  in  rather  belter  condition,  in 
pecuniary  respects,  than  was  commonly  the  fact  with  their  coun 
trymen.     It  was  only  a  natural  cunning  which  prompted  their 
concealment  of  means  which   they  preferred   to  keep  in  re 
for  other  uses.      Upon  their  secresy,  on  this  head,  depended  their 
hope  of  help  from  private  liounty  and  the  public  exchequer.  They 
kept  their  secret  successfully  while  on  shore.      It  was  their  L 
error  and  misfortune  that  the}'  were  le>s  prudent  when  they  put 
to  sea.     They  had  treasures  —  speaking  with   due  heed  to  the 
usual  standards  of  inferior  castes  —  of  considerable,  value;  t. 

of  gold  and  silver,  jewels  and  movables;  old  family  acu- 
mulations,  little  relics  of  a  former  prosperity  :  relics  of  an  affection 
which  sometimes  stinted  itself  in  its  daily  desires,  that  it  might 
provide  token  and  trinket  to  give  pleasure  to  a  beloved  one. 
The  stock,  in  these  things,  which  had  been  parsimoniously  kept, 
and  cunningly  bidden  away  by  this  little  community  of  adven 
turers,  was  by  no  means  inconsiderable.  A  treasure  of  great 
value  in  their  own  eyes,  it  was  a  sufficient  bait  to  lu>t  and  cupid 
ity,  when  beheld  by  those  of  others.  But  I  must  not  anticipate. 
These  treasures  of  the  precious  metals,  toys,  and  trink- 
easily  concealed  in  close  nooks,  among  their  common  lug. 
and,  seeming  no  other  than  a  poor  peasant  rv,  and  mere  destitutes 
of  society,  they  went  on  board  of  the  vessel  which  had  hern 
chartered  for  them,  and  soon  after  put  out  to  sea. 

"The   voyage   was   a   very    tedious    one,    protracted    by    bad 

weather,  and  thwarting  winds.      The   bark  in  which  they  sailed 

was  one  which  would  be,   likely,  in  our  day,  to  be  condemned  as 

un-eaworthy,  except  when  soldiers,  doing  battle  tor  the  country, 

!ed  to   1)0  sent  to  Te\a>   and  California.      It  would  answer 

.  now  for  such  purposes — •  perhapfl  iind  preference." 

"A  good  hit,  young  Turpentine,"   <|iioth  the  Alabaiiiian. 

"Our    Palatines  were    pretty  well  wornout    by  the   tedium   «.-t 
the  vnyagr,  their  miserable  fare  and  more  miserable  accoinii' 
tions.      Tin-  ship  \\as  leaky,  the  stores  stale,  the  storms  ire<|i 
and,  our  poor  adventurer.^  new  lo  Mich  a  progress,  were  terribly 

iued    in    spirit    Long  'hey    made    soundings.      \\ 

ar  length  they  did,  when  at  length  the  low  gray  euabt  i-f  Norib 


T  western  li-.r. 

and  the  cry  of  •  l,r  ;ed    in  their  ears,  tlicy  rOM    fn-in  tli« 

!icy  in!      :iii  extremity  of  j.»y.      They  wen-  in 
u  their  in  f  heart,  they  forgot  that 

prudence  which    had    Lth'-ito   kept    them  humble    and  cant' 

Ing  tht>  si.  momently  :  eat 

verdant  shrubs,  the   ipi'iet  nooks  an-' 

-hich  their   fancies   had  so  long   yearned,  they  felt    that   all 
.11  donht   and  delay  was  at   an  end,  and   all  re-eive  and 
-gotten.       They    prepa.  IV€    their 

-hip,  ami  to  ta>te  the  virgin  freedom  of  tl 

ther   up   his  stores,  and    to  separate    his   little 
k  of  worldly  -  ;  the  common  I 

their    hales    and    boxes   from    below.       They    strapped    and   un- 
•hem  ;  and  -n.nped  tlieniselves  upon  the  decks,  waiting 
•'MM-  dropped,  and  to  dart  into  the  boats  which 

>re. 

••  Thu*  men  i'.ir   ever  elu»at    theniM'lves  with   their  IH-JM 
:n}»atience  of  a  single  moment,  will  undo  the  \ 

ned    to  dlBappointment      To  their   si; 
the  lenly    hauled   oft'  from    land.     Tin-    E 

i  .ed   from  sight.      The}'  could  not  land 

lay.      The  captain  had  his  reasons.      They  were  in  da: 

There  irerfl   treacherous   currents.      The  in.Mili 

out  to  work  them  disa>ter.      It 

that  they  >h  D  in  which  to  . 

the;:  .••!    haven.      TheM  wt-re   th«- 

!i  baftled  their  antii'ipatioiis  at  the  moment 
of  K 

•'  The  la-t   feathei.  It    !:* 

i>t  drop  (.f  bitter  ponied    in  the    cup    already  full 

I  can  i.»!   >ay  that  o.a   pool  1  'alat ine>  wrre  utterly  broken 

•intiiH-nts  ;    but    it  ire   that    • 

felt    a^  \\  they  recede.l    from   tin 

..\y    won,   as    if  th.  their   v»  ; 

-. .      ( )f  c-  ••  \\  li.illy  ! 

!!«•  had  made    hispoit.      Ji-  .ached    l,i>    true    «:. 

might  ha  .  •  .  all    hi*   ! 

-    tii.it  \cr^    night.      Th    '  •     ,.  .-    iluc    tu  :'. 


840  BOUT  11  \V.\IU)    III)  ! 

error  of  policy  —  to  that  wild  ea..  1  childish  hope,  which 

made  them  heedless  «!'  a  caution  which  they  had  hitherto  pro- 
served  with  a  religious  strictness,  through  long  years  in  which 
they  had  known  nothing  but  the  caprice  of  fortune. 

"The  careless,  or  the  ostentatious  exhibition  of  their  hitherto 
concealed  treasures,  now  held  to  be  secure,  was  the  true  < 
of  the  nia.-t-'r's  change  of  policy.  His  greedy  eye  had  caught 
golden  glimpses  among  their  luggage.  He  had  seen  the  silver 
teasels  and  the  shining  jewels  —  he  had  detected  the  value  of 
those  heirlooms  which  had  been  accumulated  and  preserved  by 
the  tribe  of  adventurers,  in  spite  of  the  trials  of  poverty,  through 
long  generations. 

"These    discoveries   awakened    the   devil   in   his   heart.      UN 
was  the  sort  of  honesty  which  kept  steadfast  only  in  the 
of  the  tempter.     He  had,  otherwise,  few  or  no  human  UK 
for  its  exercise.     His  life  had  been  a  reckless  and  a  restless  one, 
and  sober  business  performance  was  only  to  be  pursued   by  way 
of  variety,  and  in  the  absence  of  more  exciting  stimulants, 
mate,  or   second  oilicer,  was   a  person  after    his   own  heart. 
him  he  dropped  a  hint  of  his  discoveries.      A  word    to  the  ro-ue 
is  (juite  as  Miflieieut    as   to  the  wise   man.     It    required    but    feu- 
words  between  the  two  to  come  to  a  mutual  understanding.    The 
-teamen  were   severally  sounded  ;    and   the  .ship   clawed  off  from 
the  shore. 

"  In  those  days  the  profession  of  piracy  had  no  such  odious 
character  us  it  hears  in  ours.  Successful  piracy  was,  in  short, 
rather  a  creditable  business.  It  was  not  dishonorable,  and  he 
who  practised  it  with  most  profit,  was  likely  to  acquire  from  it 
the  best  credit.  Great  pirates  were,  knighted  by  great  kiln 
thone.  pej-iods.  Witness  the  case  of  the  monster  Henry  Moi 
Th;-  bloody  hand  was  rather  a  noble  badge,  indeed,  provided  it 
was  shown  at.  courty;///-handed.  Then,  as  now,  it  was  only  your 
poor  rogue,  who  was  hung  for  making  too  free  with  his  neigh 
bor's  goods.  Piracy  was  legitimated  ln'ijnml  tin  Jim',  and  f>und 
its  national  and  natural  excuse  in  ( ireat  Britain  when  it  could 
prove  that  the  victim-  were  onh  Spaniards  or  Frenchmen.  Like 
any  other  speculation,  its  moral  depended  wholly  on  its  results. 
We  are  not  to  feel  surprised,  therefore,  at  the,  easy  virtue,  of  our 
marines  —  a  peoplv  in  (].<  M 


THK    MIDNICI!  8  11 

no  such  re>pectful  concern  or  consideration  among  the 

•hey  command  in  01 

B  de\il.  accordingly.  f'Ui'.d  nothing  to  obstruct  his  maehi- 
DS  in  the  lira:'  captain  and  his  subordinates.     They 

determined    upon  j  d>  and  chattels   of  the  : 

emigrant-,  a!">nt  who>e  fate  the  L:"\ eminent  was  hardly  likely 
.piire.  Hence  the  Midden  purpose  of  drawing  «.tV  iVi.in  the 
>hore,  at  the  very  moment  of  Lading,  t«»  the  mortification  ami 
final  defeat  of  tin-  hopes  of  our  .-inijde  and  unsuspecting  I'ala- 
• 

\vas  not  found  difficult   tu  convince  these  ignorant  pe-j'le, 
that    tho  safety  "f  the  vessel    reijiiireil   tliese    jirecautions  —  that 

had    erred    Hmirwhat    in  their   reckoning  —  that    they  V 
^till  their   j>ronii>ed    port,  and    that   a   progress   farther 

alter  what   the  plea,  it  was  sufficient 
Vnce  complaint  or   murmuring.      The\    were    at    the    n 
of  th.  .  whether  lie  were  pirate  or  honot  mariner,  and  re 

•  Ives,  with  what   philo^opliy  they  might,  to  the  (le- 
at  told  them  of  rolling  a  few  days  longer  on  the  deep. 
They  did  n«»t  linger  on  deck  after  night,  and  when  the  s!. 
no  longer  vi>ihle.      The    hope  deterred  which    inakcth 
heart    sick,  drove    the    greater  part  of  them  to  their    haininoeks. 
Their  lo.  itli    the   unhappily  expo^-cd  wealth,  \\as   again 

to  the  interior  of  the  ship.      Hut  a  few  of  the  young  men 
,pon  the    deck,  watching   the    faint    lines  of  the    land,  until 
lowed  up  in  darkness;   even  then,  with  eyes  straining  \\. 
direction    of   the    ^hore    for    which    they  \  earned,  convening   to- 
<  r.  in  their  own  language,  in  h,,;  :;tident  exj.ectatiou 

of  their  future  fortr, 

;le  thus    emjiloyed.  the  captain  and    hi^  crew,  in  anotiier 
part  of   the  \.  icocting    their    fearful    scheme  of  vil- 

l.iny. 

"The  hour  grew  late,  the  night  deepened;    t!  •-•nnans 

\vho    remained    on   -iei-k,   .stretcln-il    them  they 

•1    h:   >Iu!.. 
"  Wliile  tlni>  they  lay  un.ier  :i,e  peaceful  cope  and  canopy  of 

.1  a  slumt'iM.   .\hiri.  mn  starlight,  lot.k 

upr:  '..  hallow,  the  men 

ami    han  .   upon  tl.eni.      The  cahin-door  uf  tlif 


SOUTHWARD    HO! 

vessel  had  been  fastened,  the  entrance  closed  to  the,  hold.  End, 
seaman  stood  by  his  victim,  and  at  a  given  signal  they  all  struck 
together.  There  was  no  chance  given  for  struggle  —  the  mur 
derers  had  planned  their  crime  with  terrible  deliberation  and 
consummate  skill.  A  spasmodic  throe  of  some  muscular  frame 
—  a  faint  cry  —  a  slight  groan  may  have  escaped  the  victims  — 
but  little  more.  At  least,  the  poor  sleepers  below  were  una- 
roused  by  the  event. 

"  The  deck  cleared  of  the  murdered  men,  the  murderers  de 
scended  stealthily  to  the  work  below.  Passing  from  berth  to 
berth  with  the  most  fiendish  coolness,  they  struck  —  seldom 
twice  —  always  fatally — men,  women,  and  children;  the  old, 
the  young,  the  tender  and  the  strong,  the  young  mother  and 
the  poor  angel-innocent  but  lately  sent  to  earth  —  all  perished  , 
not  permitted  to  struggle,  or  submitting  in  despair,  incapable  of 
arresting  the  objects  of  the  criminals.  We  may  fancy  for  our 
selves  the  horror  of  such  a  scene.  We  may  imagine  some  one 
or  more  ot  tne  victims  awaking  under  the  ill-directed  knife  — 
awaking  to  a  vain  struggle  —  unkindly  alarming  those  into  con 
sciousness  who  had  no  strength  for  conflict.  Perhaps  a  mother 
may  have  found  strength  to  rise  to  her  knees,  imploring  mercy 
for  the  dear  child  of  her  heart  and  hope;  —  may  have  been  suf 
fered  to  live  sufficiently  long  to  see  its  death  .struggle,  its  wild 
contortions,  in  the  grasp  of  the  unrelenting  assassin.  Art  may 
not  describe  such  a  scene  truly,  as  imagination  can  hardly  con 
ceive  it.  They  perished,  one  and  all  —  that  little  family  of  em 
igrants;  and  the  murderers,  grouped  around  the  treasures  \\hich 
had  damned  their  hearts  into  the  worst  hell  of  covetousness  ami 
crime,  were  now  busied  in  the  division  of  their  bloody  spniU. 

"  How  they  settled  this  matter  among  themselves  —  what  divis 
ion  they  made  of  the  treasure, —  and  with  what  temper  they 
decided  upon  their  future  course,  must  be  wholly  matter  of  con 
jecture.  Tradition  rarely  deals  with  the  minor  details  of  her 
subject,  though  sufliciently  courageous  always  in  the  conception 
of  leading  events. 

"The  story  further  goes,  that,  having  done  the  fearful  deed 
without  botching,  thoroughly,  effectively.  Miliering  neither  resis 
tance  nor  loss  —  bavin.  -ed  then:  •'  all  that  was 
valuable  in  the  ship,  as  well  as  among  the  stores  of  theii  vif- 


THE 

tiins  -tl  -el    on    fin-,  as  the 

11    tin-    |».  •  beil  crime.      'I 

launched    their    In.. -its.      It  wa-    ini'!iii--hr.      'I'  •  aim 

ami  very  beautiful —  t!  >ur   do\\  n  will. 

as    innocently  ami  Unconsciously,  as  if  there  were   no   guilt,  and 
shame,  ami.  munler,  anywhere  vi>i!,!  -!i  liad  m  • 

.  horn  ;in\  \\here  amoi  _  men.     No  voices  in  tlio 

win:  ':    along   the  to    startle    tho    se 

noes  of  the  bloody-banded  *  tYe.-h  from  their 

sarrifiee.       They    w..rke,l    as   it'    Law   ami    Love    hotli    piv 

r   their   labors  ;    ami,  with    '  ami 

peril  y    cheerily    toi!e«l    away,  until    their   ill-- 

II    >atVIy  transfenvil    to   the   stowage  of  tho   1 
then  set  the  condemn*  on  lire  — 

*    "  •  That  fatal  Imrk, 
Built  in  I;  inrV  ;' 

and    plied    their  prows   in   the    direction  of  that  shore,  from   tho 
harbor  of  which   they  had  withheld    their   Imiirin^  vic 
tims.      Tin-  lire,  led  hy  tar  ami  other  ouiiluistibU'.  matt- 

;.tly  on  every  jM.rti«»n  of  the  fahric.      The  pirates  had  : 
thei.  iients  I'm  ;,  in  such 

;ht  that  the  ship  would  he  \itterly.destroyed.      She 
•if   Sufficiently  old    and    comh'i-tiMe.      Tl. 

triumphantly  in  air,  lici- 

far  nh«nr  the  maintop,  darting   "lit  to  the    pn»w,  climhi: 

:i,  from  keel  t<>  bulwark,  involv- 

tbe  whole  mA68  in  il  iialde  lire.      '1'ln-  jiirat. 

with  .-ati.-tied  & 

tlOOU       The  de«-p  >h.,iild  i-n-ulf  it- 

••  Vain  ln.j  r  !     Tin-    l'i.-\  idence  stil]   sees,  ;h  ».. 

Suddenly.  inur    crim' 

Lip    lia.i 

.vith    tho 
'••  ;d    no    longer.       The    i 

.hot 

^lo\'  f 


344  rHWAKD    nu! 

of  fire,  —  fire  alight  —  of  a  fierce  red  ilame  like  that  of  au  Augujt 
sunset — but  fire  that  would  not  consume  the  thii.g  jT  tvhich  it 
seemed  to  have  become  the  essential  life  ! 

"What  a  wonder!  what  a  spectacle!  To  ti.c  murderers,  the 
finger  of  God  was  present.  Jle  was  present,  heholdiug  all,  and 
his  judgment  of  fire  was  already  begun. 

"Fora  moment  every  arm  was  paralyzed.  The  boats  drifted 
idly  on  the  waters.  The  oars  dipped  mid  drained  through 
the  seas,  undirected  hy  the  stroke,  nnt/l  the  husky  but  harsh 
voice  of  the  captain  startled  them  into  consciousness,  lie.  was 
a  hardened  sinner,  but  he  too  felt  the  terror.  He  was  simply 
the  first  to  recover  from  his  paralysis.. 

" «  Hell  yawns  !  It  is  hell  we  see  !  Pull  for  dear  life,  men  — 
pull  for  shore.' 

"  And  they  obeyed  ;  and,4'ast  as  they  fled,  stoutly  as  they 
pulled  for  land,  they  looked  back  with  horror  and  consternation 
at  the  sight  —  that  terrible  spectacle  behind  them  —  a  ship  all 
lire  that  would  not  burn  —  a  lire  that  would  neither  destroy  its 
object,  nor  perish  itself,  nor  give  out  concealing  smokes,  shrouding 
the  form  with  blackness,  —  shrouding  the  dreadful  secret  which 
thev  themselves  had  lighted  up  for  the  inspection  of  Heaven. 

Was  God,  in  truth,  presiding  over  that    bloody  deck  .'      Was  he 
then   penetrating  the  secrets  of   that  murderous  hold?      Did  hell 
really   yawn    upon    them    >\ith    its    .sulphurous   fires!       Star 
indee.l,  and  most  terrific  spectacle! 

"  They  reached  the  land  before  the  dawn  of  day.  They 
drew  their  boats  on  shore  upon  a  lonely  waste,  a  few  miles  only 
from  human  habitations,  but  in  a  region  utterly  wild  and  ravage. 
They  had  strength  only  to  reach  the  land  and  draw  the  boats 
on  -bore  in  safetv.  Then  they  sank  down,  incapable,  of  further 
effort,  and  ga/ed  with  \acant  eyes  upon  the  illuminated  branm 
of  their  hellish  deeds.  There  was  a  God  —  there  was  a  hell! 
They  read  both  truths,  for  the  first  time  clearly,  in  that  awful 
picture  of  judgment. 

••  All  night  thus  did  the  ship  continue  to  glow  with  unconsuming 
brightness.  The  mortal  tire.-,  had  been  extinguished  in  the  super 
natural.  And  thus  articulately  limned  in  phosphoric  brightness, 
the  fatal  ship  sped  to  and  fro.  now  passing  forward  to  the  shore, 
upoL  which  they  crouched  —  now  suddenly  lost  to  sight,  and 


•i  HI:  «  11  M;I;I:I>   \ 

)g    ill    the     ea-t     "lily    to    reMime     the  '    M     ff.llTul 

'  en  they  lost  her, 
the\  freely  in  a  relie\  :  :  — 

•  —  sunk  at  1;ist  —  gone  now  —  gone  ! 
-.nent  after,  they  would  cry  cut  in  horror: — 
•••  Hell!      TheW  ihe  N  again!' 

the  night  pa 

"Withthe  ••('  the  <lav  tin  !  t<>  lnini 

Dger  illuminate.      But    she  was   there    still— erect 

:!i    hull,   an.l    masts,    ami    spars,  and    sails,  an-1 

rordage —  all    BJlCODSIimecl        f\nythin^    in    its    jilaee.  U    il'   she 

just  leayiiig  jn-rt,  —  but  everything  blackened  —  ehan-e«l 

pernatural  l'lai-kn,-ss  —  terrihly  sal-lr  —  ^l..nmy  as  death  — 
i),  silent,  portentous,  moving  to  and   fro  in  a  never-ceasing 

from  ea-t  t"  \\ 

••  \Vitii  t'.iM'inated  eye>  the  miserable  murderers  watched  the 
dreadful  spectacle  all  day.  They  ate  nothing.  They  drank 
nothing.  They  had  no  sense  hut  in  their  eyes,  and  these  had 
hut  the  one  ohjrct.  Kvery  moment  they  watched  to  see  the 
g««  down.  When  they  >poke,  it  was  with  this  hoj)(>  ;  and 
-<>metimes.  when  for  a  moment  the  spectre  vessel  receded  in 

they  cried    thi<  hope  aloud  in  ga-jiii.. 
horrid  joy.      But  the   joy  changed    in  a  moment — as   she    reap- 

:  (juite  near  again — to  a  despair  more  horrid. 
"  With    the   return  of  night  the  tcrrihle   fascination   incn-a 
sun  went    down    in  heauty  ;    the  -tars   came   out    in    serene 
•liont  a  cloud,  the  lea  without  a  mur- 
;    the  winds    slept    upon    the    waves  ;    the 
hung  motionless  ;    and  all    graduallv  ir.tdte.-l    mistily  into   th< 

—  all    hut    the    hlackened    vessel.       Suddenly,  she 
!enly,  they  heheld    the  snaky  tiro  i;ii;iii::^  up 
the    c.. rdage.        They     Wound     ahout     the 

theniMclves   over  the  canvass  ;    they  glared    out    upon    the    hp>ad 

Mark  >ea  with  a  tlunisaii-!  eyes  of  lire  ;    and  the  ship  Bgaill  went 

..id    fro,   from  illuminate    in  ;ial    lire. 

Lore  down  upon  them   thus,  and    -food   off,  thru  w.ue,  then 

\\itli    all    cany«J8    toward    the    heai  h    upon    which 
hed,   until    mortal  i    endure    the 

terror.       The    dreadful  -"iild    n«»    :  horne.       The 


34f>  SOUTH \V.\I; I)    HO! 

murderers  fled  from  the  shore  —  fled  to  the  cover  of  the 
ai?d  hurled  themselves  in  the  vast  interior. 

"  According  to  tradition,  the  penalty  of  blood  h-as  never  been 
fully  paid;  and  the  rule  of  retributive  justice  requires  that  the 
avenging  fates  and  furies  shall  hang  about  the  lives  of  the  crim 
inals  and  their  children,  unless  expiated  by  superior  virtues  in 
the  progeny,  and  through  the  atoning  mercies  of  the  Savi-»r. 
Hence,  the  continued  reappearance,  year  after  year,  nf  the  Ship 
of  Fire.  The  immediate  criminals  seem  to  have  gone  free. 
At  all  events,  tradition  tells  us  nothing  of  their  peculiar  pains 
and  penalties.  Doubtlessly,  Kternal  justice  followed  on  their 
footsteps.  Their  lives  were  haunted  by  terror  and  rem 
Horrid  aspects  crowded  upon  their  souls  in  dreaming  hours  and 
in  solitude.  They  lived  on  their  ill-gotten  spoils  to  little  profit; 
and,  according  to  the  story,  each  year  brought  them  down,  as 
by  a  fearful  r.cccssitv,  to  the  seashore,  at  the  verv  period  when 
the  spectre  ship  made  her  fiery  progress  along  the  coast.  Tin* 
spectacle.,  which  they  were  doomed  to  endure,  kept  alive  and 
for  ever  green  in  their  souls  the  terrible  memory  of  their  crime. 
They  have  all  met  the  common  destiny  of  earth  —  are  all  dead  ; 
for  the  peri«»d  of  their  evil  deed  extends  back  long  beyond  the 
usual  limit  of  human  life.  Their  descendants  still  enjoy  the 
fruits  of  their  crime,  and  hence  the  still-recurring  spectacle  of  the 
Ship  of  Fire,  which,  according  to  the  tradition,  must  continue  to 
reappear,  on  the  spot  consecrated  by  the  crime,  until  the  last  de- 
lantof  that  bloody  crew  shall  have  expiated,  by  a  death  of 
shame,  and  agony,  the.  bloody  offences  of  his  miserable  ancestor  " 

Our  North-Carolinian  paused. 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  this  Ship  of  Fire?'1  was  the  question 
of  one  of  the  lad:. 

"  I  ha\e  M-en  something  like  it  —something  so  utterly  unac 
countable,  otherwise,  under  the  circumstances,  that  1  have  l>ecii 
reluctantly  compelled  to  account  for  the  mystery  by  a  reference 
to  the  tradition." 

This  was  .^aid  somewhat  hesitatingly.  The  Alabamian  touched 
the  narrator  on  the  shoulder:  — 

"I  do  not  cei.  lulity,  my  dear  young  Turpentine, 

•A-ill  I  uuesiion  j  .,ui-  hr'li-f  in  any  way  ;    hut  sufl'er  me  t«.  rouii- 
•  hat,  what«"\  ei  you  may  1  .-lii-\  r.  yon  never  permit  }  our.-elf  to 
rive  a  certificate  of  the  f  ivies,  if  yon  are  v 


XVI. 

-\V Ml>  P BRINGS. —  K  K.  Ml. \ISCENCB. 

.r.  thanks  of  our  little   company  \\ere  fiankiy 

t         liniaii,  who  had   deli\v  '.i'  nr.ith  D 

^iully  than  we  were  prepared  ; 

I    in  which    his    Simplicity  had    quite  failed    U)  the 

•|ui/./in^>  of  the  Alahamian.      '1'liat  >atirieal  worthy  joined  ill 
applause  with  "d    humor    and    evident    Miieenty,  th 

he  o'ldd  not  forhear  his  iiMial  111.  3  atO. 

••  Verily,  thou    ha*t  done  well,  my  youi  ir  mi  the  em 

pire  «l  Tereldnth  ;    thou  ha^t  delivered  thyself  with  a  roini..- 

nodes^  and  >imjil:city.  wliirh  merits  OtU 

ment-.      Pray.  Mip|.o>e  me,  anion^   the  re.-t,  to    he  ei..inen:i;, 
lighted  and  -rateful  accordinirly.      That  a  trairi-dy  .'-o  ;_'ra\f.  and 

d  as  the  one    you   b*V6    told,  i-oidd  ha\e    heen   I 
jureii    OUl  "f  the  hi.^toi  ical  or   the  traditional    material  ot 

.:    Qarolina,   I  could    :-carc.dy  have    ludieved.      1    bav< 
,-d    to    t1.  iturnine    or    phlegmatii 

DOnceptionS,       It'  be  l»hle^;m  for   a  mom.-nt,  i: 

to  indul-'  i-hination.      She  rrlishe- 

ludicrous   at    lime>.      Tl  Mimmer   over   her    rai.. 

:o  the  east, 

woman  ur"t  out.  and  a  1:1. -up  ,,f  Miiilin-  countr\  I   in. 

.     . 

-"n  in  a  i'io\\  n  linen  o\  «-i  all.  an<i  with  a  mouth  troi. 

\\illl   the    hiounot    juic. 

the\  ap  now,  to  take  in  pi-«-ple  thai  don't  kir 

jM-oph-    all    al  B  calls    tl.. 

kail;  '  to    1'ain    your    tin.-    Ing    Dan 

«[uile  loo  hi^  .1  mouthful  l"i   a  onn 


348  SOUTHWARD    110  ! 

"Think  of  the  pathetic  susceptibilities  of  any  people  who  call 
Mieir  village  'Tear-Shirt!'  I  could  not  well  believe  it,  ami 
knowing  in  what  sort  of  ditch  water  hyperbole  our  common 
sort  of  people  are  apt  to  deal,  I  turned  to  the  fellow  and  said  — 
You  don't  mean  that '  Tear-Shirt'  is  the  real  name  of  this  plan-  ?' 

"  '  Why  to  be  sure  I  do,'  said  he  '  that's  what  tin-  people  rail* 
it  all  about;  its  only  the  railroad  folks  that  names  it  •  Strick 
land', —  and  he  then  told  a  long  cock-and-bull  story  of  a  tanioi- 
fight  in  these  parts,  at  the  first  settling  of  th,  place,  in  which 
one  of  the  parties,  though  undergoing  a  -.••rriblr.  pummelling  -ill 
the  while  continued  to  tear  the  shirt  wholly  from  the  back  of  .'.!.- 
assailant;  and  this  imposing  event,  seizing  upon  the  populv 
imagination,  caused  the  naming  of  the  place  —  the  ludi 
naturally  taking  much  firmer  hold  with  the  vulgar  than  the  sub 
lime. 

"The  most  pathetic  circumstance  that  I  ever  witnessed,  01, 
indeed,  heard  of  in  North  Carolina,  occurred  in  this  very  region, 
and  on  the  same  occasion.  I  mentioned  that  a  group  of  country 
girls  came  into  the  cars,  at  this  place  of  ragged-linen  eognoir  ;n. 
They  were  pretty  girls  enough,  and  several  beaux  were  in  at 
tendance  ;  and  such  sniggering  and  smiling,  and  chirping  and 
cluttering,  would  have  made  Cupid  himself  ache  to  hear  and  wit- 
even  in  the  arms  of  Psyche. 

"  'Ain't  you  going  to  take  little  Churnjlmxco  along  with  you, 
M  s  Sallie  V  demanded  one  of  the  swains,  holding  up  a  pet  pup 
py  to  the  windows  of  the  car. 

";  Ef  they'd  let  me,'  answered  one  of  the  girls;  'but  they'd 
want  me  to  pay  for  his  passage..' 

"'  He'll  be  so  sorry  ef  you  leave  him  !'  quoth  the  lover. 

'"Well,  I  reckon,'  responded  the  girl,  pertly  enough,  'he 
won't  be  the  only  puppv  that's  BOny.1 

"'  You're  into  me,  Miss  Sallie  !'  was  the  answer  ;  '  and  I  shall 
feel  sore  about  the  ribs  for  the  rest  of  the  day.' 

"'I  don't  think,'  answered  the  girl — '  I  never  gin  you  credit 
for  any  feeling.' 

"  '  Ah  !   you're  too  hard  upon  a  body  now.' 

"'Well,  I  don't  want  to  In-:  for  when  I  think  about  leaving 
Churrybusco,  I  has  a  sorrowful  M.H  of  feeling  for  all  leetle  dogs.' 

"'  Well,  take  us  both  along.      I'll  pay  for  myself,  and  I  reck 


i  m:  LITTI.I:  :  349 

on   the   conductor  won't  see   ('hurry,  and    he   wont  say  nothing 
ef  he  do, 

•••  You  think  so?' 

-  1    :    i 

•  •  Well,  hand  him  up  here.      I'll  try  it.' 

And,  with  the  words,  the  insignificant  little  monster,  of  gray 

Complexion  and   curly  tail,  was   handed   into  the  window  of  the 

.lid  carefully  Mingled  uj>  in  the  .shawl  of  Miss  Sallie.     Soon 

Ifere    undei    way.       Soon    the    conductor   made    his    appear- 

and    received   his   dues.      It'  hi-    saw  tin-    dog,  he  was   civil 

enough  i.  .1  to  see.     For  a  few  miles,  the  puppy  and  the 

•el  went  on  ifnietly  enough.     But  ('hnrrvhn.vco  liecame  impa- 

tient  finally  of  his  wrappings  in  the  mantle,  and   he  scrambled 

ipon  the  -eat.  then  upon  the  floor  of  the  car.     Anon, 

we    Mopped    for  a  moment   at   some   depot,   where    twenty-two 

:  turpentine  were  piled  up  ready  for  exportation.      1 ; 

dm:.  :.;ade  his  way  to  the  platform,  and,  just  as  the  cai 

aioving  "iV,  a  clnm-  _rer,  .stepping  from  one 

•  another,  tumhled  the  favorite  from  the  platform  upon  the 

Very  terrible  and  tender  was  the  scream  of  the  young 

•"Churrj  < 'hurry husco!      He's  killed  !   he's  kill 

"  iii.t  the  whining  and  yelping  puppy  soon  showed  himself 
running  with  all  his  little  legs  in  pnr.Miit  of  the  train,  and  bow- 
wowing  with  pitiful  entreaty  as  he  ran. 

the   car1    stop   the   car!'  cried  the  young  lady  to  the 
coin!  'ng  through. 

ii — 1  !'  wis  the  horrid  answer  of  the  rutFian. 

••The  lady  >olihed  and  begged,  hut  the  obdurate  mon-ter  was 

i!i.<\ed    by    her    eiit iva^e-..      'I'hr  dam>el   was  whirled 

Bping  all  the  while.      If  you  a>k  tradition,  it  will  prob- 

tell  you  that  the  pup  has   kept  on  running   to    this    day,  .>n 

-  tin-  fellow  fought  in  the  old   Kngli-.li  ballad.     TL« 

whole    M-ene  |  pathetic     -  at'ter  a  fashion.      Now,  that  is 

the  m. .si   tragic  adventure  that   1  ever  had  in  North  Carolina." 

"  YOU  DM]  find  other>  more  tra-ical."  .juotli  our  N..rth-C.  - 
linian,  >i-niticai;;i  \.  travtd  treijiiently  mi  that  route,  and 

ar  tongue  a^  ficeiy  M   \  or, 
\\\:  IOOO  got    back   to   the   traditions   of   the    gr*at  deep  —  iU 


•*">()  SOUTH  \VAKI)    HO  ! 

storms  and  secrets.     Our  captain   tlien   told  the  following   anec- 
dote  of  his  own  experience:  — 

"You  remember  tl.e  fate  of  the  Pulaski  ?  Well,  when  she 
arrived  from  Savannah,  full  of  j  8,  and  took  in  alnn- 

great  a  number  in  the  port  of  Charleston,  the  packet-ship  Button, 
which  I  then  commanded,  was  up  lor  New  York  also.  The 
Pulaski  was  all  the  rage,  as  she  had  announced  that  she  w, 
be  only  one  night  at  sea.  My  ship  had  a  large  list  of  her  own 
pa-sengers,  some  of  whom  were  prudent  enough  to  prefer  «.ui 
ancient  slow  and  easy  sailer.  But  two  of  them  were  now  anxious 
to  leave  me,  and  take  the  Pulnski.  Of  course,  I  had  no  objections 
to  their  doing  so;  I  simply  objected  to  giving  them  back  their 
money.  They  u  ere  not  so  anxious  to  get  on  as  to  make  them 
incur  double  expense  of  pas>age,  so  they  remained  with  me, 
growling  and  looking  sulky  all  the  way.  Of  course,  my  reso 
lution  .saved  their  lives,  but  I  do  not  remember  that  they  ever 
thanked  me  for  having  done  so,  or  apologized  for  their  sulks 
upon  the  way.  But,  curious  enough,  before,  they  left  the  port, 
and  while  they  were  clamoring  fur  theii  discharge,  there  came. 
a  gentleman  from  the  interior,  who  had  taken  passage  in  the  1'u- 
la.ski,  and  paid  his  money  to  that  vessel.  He  implored  a  plan-  in 
my  .-hip.  giving  as  his  reason  that  he  was  afraid  to  go  in  the 
steamer.  He  \\  as  troubled  with  a  presentiment  of  danger,  and 
preferred  to  forfeit  his  money,  rather  than  lose  his  life.  His 
earnestness  to  get  on  board  the  Sutton,  and  to  escape  the  1'u- 
laski,  was  in  amusing  contrast  with  that  of  my  two  passengers 
who  wished  to  escape  from  me.  1  had  no  berth  for  the  stran 
ger,  but  he  insisted.  He  could  .sleep  anywhere  —  any  how  — 
and  desired  conveyance  only.  lie.  was  accommodated,  and  was, 
of  course,  one  of  those  who  escaped  the  danger. 

"  It  so  happened  that  we  had  on  board  the  Sutton  several 
members  of  one  of  the,  most  distinguished  of  the  South  Carolina 
families.  A  portion  of  this  family,  in  spite  of  the  wishes  of  the 
rest,  had  gone  in  the  1'ulaski.  The  steamer,  of  course,  soon 
showed  us  her  heels,  and  the  Sutton  went  forward  as  slowly  as 
the  most  philosophical  patience  could  desire.  We  had  light 
and  bafllinir  winds  —  nothing  to  help  us  forward  —  but  no  had 
weather.  The  lung-sided  coast  of  North  Carolina  stretched 
away,  never  ending  in  length  for  days  upon  our  quarter.  A* 


h,  1'V  (lint    of  patience   rather   than  lied    that 

latitude  iii  which    the    Pula  Mown   up   four  days  oefore. 

We  :..!!-.'   bai  '•    1  i  •  11   \  ••:  J    :.-..!•.    OV61    t] 

'y  in 

:lu-  gentlemen  of  the  Carolina  family  I 
mentioned,  came  ;id    that  he  had  heard 

i  moaninirs,  a-  -us  upon  the  water.      I 

iinnii  I,  examine.!   a>  u  idl   as 

aid    neither   hear    nor   see   any  ohject  he- 

the  sliip.    Hi'  again  heard  the  Qo'ise^and  a^-ain  I  \\atcdied 

••xamine'!.      I;  .  and  I  greatly  anx- 

^^'itll  the  lir>t    da\\  n   of  n.orniii--  I   \\  a>  up  in  the  ri^-in^, 

\vith  my  glaM,      Nothh  g  irtfl  ; 

^V^•  bad  1  teai>,  i:  •   no 

None  of  us   thought   «>f  the    I'li; 
;iid,  >avinj:  ti. 
,  who   d: 

P  er€    not    only  no  appr- 

y,  hut    our  pa- 

tliei.  .  !i    the  while    ;  that  they  had    n..: 

reel  it,  till 
our  pilot  oil'  Sandy  llo..k.      Now,  what  do  you  ,-a\ 

whieli  \\er«     heard   hy  the   one   gentlemen,  \\\\ 
n;en  in  the    1  I  lost.      F 

iout  help,  iu  that   very  i 

-tarteil,  (!M 

eurjini;  in    th«  liink 

that   I   am  as  little  liahle  to  .supi 

..  itii    a    L 

that 

Than 

Once  open   ti 

ivh.-i- 

the 

:    their    pri>'.n  \i- 


352  souTiiwAKi)  no! 


been  lir.st  -ivt-ii  t«i  the  company  by  one  bolder  than  the  lest.  GUI 
':;i})tain's  anecdote  led  to  a  variety  of  experiences  and  re 
tioiis,  at  the  close  of  which,  one  of  the  party,  being  reminded  of 
hia  appointment  as  next  raconteur,  bestowed  the  following  dark 
fancy-piece  upon  us,  which  lie  assured  us  was  woven  in  the 
world  of  dreams,  and  was,  in  most  respects,  a  loiiafulc  report  of 
u  real  experience  in  the  domain  of  sleep  :  — 

THE  WAGER  OF  BATTLE. 

A  TALE  OF  THE  FEUDAL  AfiES 

CHAPTER    I. 

THE  analysis  of  the  dreaming  faculty  has  never  yet  been 
made.  The  nearest  approach  to  it  is  in  our  own  time,  and  by 
the  doctors  of  Phrenology.  The  suggestion  of  a  plurality  of 
mental  attributes,  and  of  their  independence,  one  of  the  other, 
affords  a  key  to  some  of  the  difficulties  of  the  subject,  without 
altogether  enabling  us  to  penetrate  the  mystery.  Many  diffi 
culties  remain  to  be  overcome,  if  we  rely  upon  the  ordinary 
modes  of  thinking.  My  own  notion  is,  simply,  that  the  condition 
of  sleep  is  one  which  by  no  means  affects  the  mental  nature.  I 
think  it  probable  that  the  mind,  accustomed  to  exercise,  thinks 
oa,  however  deep  may  be  the  sleep  of  the  physical  man  ;  that 
the  highest  exerei.se  of  the  thinking  faculty  —  that  which  involves 
the  imagination  —  is,  perhaps,  never  more  acutely  free  to  work 
out  its  problems  than  when  unembarrassed  by  the  cares  and 
anxieties  of  the  temperament  and  form;  and  that  dreaming  is 
neither  more  nor  less  than  habitual  thought,  apart  from  the  or 
dinary  restraints  of  humanity,  of  which  the  memory,  at  waking, 
regains  a  more  or  less  distinct  consciousness.  This  thought  may 
or  may  not  have  been  engendered  by  the  topics  \\hicli  have  im- 
-ed  or  interested  us  during  the  day;  but  this  is  not  necessary 
nor  is  it  inevitable..  We  dream  precisely  as  we  think,  with  sug 
gestions  arising  to  the,  mind  in  deep,  spontaneously,  EU  they  do 
continually  when  -r.-./aki1,  without  any  special  provocation  ;  and 
our  dreams,  in  all  probability,  did  n<>!  our  memory  fail  us  at 
awaking,  would  possess  that  coherence,  proportion  and  mutual 
relation  of  parts,  which  the  ordinarv  use  of  the  rati«.cinative 


THE 

bK-ill  ;  •!(    of    dollht    tll.'lt    the    sleep  of  tllP 

.  11  \\hile  tin-  mind  is  at  work,  in 
:'  activity,  ami  even  excitement.  in  its  mighty  gtoro- 

iled, 

tin-    taste    Snrippreciati-.  e,  nii'l    tl.  of  touch    locked  up  in 

tli,-    fa>!    eml  .  while   thought.  fancy,  ini- 

pari-on  ami  causality,  arc  all  husy  in  the  n»o>t  1, 
uid  in  tin-  most  wonderful  creation--.     V>ut  my  pn:: 
DOW  to  insist  upon  these  jilionnint'iia.  ami  my  speculations 
!\    t-i    introduce  a  vision   of  my  own;   one 

»f  tliiix-  wild.  in.cirs  wliirh  .sometimes  so  nm-x- 

•  dly  jx-ople  ami  cmjdoy  our  .->luml>ors  —  coherent,  seemingly 
utterly  remote   as   can  well   l.e  im;i^ined 
..f  d;iily  cxj.erience  and  customary  reilection. 


1    had    prol.aldy  been    a-d.-rj.    a    couple  of  hours,  when  I  wa- 
me  oj.pres^ive   mental    sensation.      I  was  con- 

i  tl    •  1   had  been  dreaming,  and  that  1  bad  seen  a  crowd 

>.  either  in  hui^  procession,  or    ni^a^ed    in    BO1 
•iiouial.       Hut  of  the  particulars  —  the  jdace.  the  p.-. 

:  the  period,  —  I  had  not  the  most  distant  rrc<»Ilec 

.  however,  of  an    excited    pul.se,  and    of  a 

,iade  me,  for  a  moment,  fancy  that    I    had 

.  was  not    the  case.      I   fOflC,  threw  on  my 

.MM!  went    to    the  window.      The    moon    was   in 

her  meridian  ;    the  whole  landscape  was  flickering  with  the  li^ht 

.y  lia/e  v.ith  which  she  caipeted    lu-r    pathway.      From    the 

B    of  the    ora:  j  -    immediately    heneath    the 

diamond-like  points  of  ine\ 

all  tin-  liehl.s  was  spread  a  !: 

tha:  My  purr    and    delicate    in    contact  with    the    stnnhre 

t  of  which  it  stretched. 
Tin  I'd'oic  me  that  was  not  nt 

tie    ai.d    1  r;iutiful  ;    imt  liisig  which,  l.y  tin-  mote   con- 

tion,  C'.nlii    p-is^il  1\  |  darkness  or  of  terror. 

'.ed  upon  th<-  M-i-m-  only  I'-T  a  i'rw  moment-.     The  nigh' 

.  Iden  .shivering  cliillness  which  it   .sent   through  all 

msellecl  ;  !th  all  p" 

pedltion.      I  did  »  fill  ID  WOOing  tbe  irturii 


SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 

of  those  slumbers  which  had  been  so  unusually  banished  from 
mine  eyes.  For  more  than  an  hour  I  lay  tossing  and  dissatisfied, 
with  my  thoughts  flitting  from  subject  to  subject  with  all  the 
caprice  of  an  April  butterfly.  When  I  again  slept,  however,  I 
was  again  conscious  of  a  crowd.  A  multitude  of  objects  p 
in  prolonged  bodies  before  my  sight.  Troops  of  glittering  forms 
then  occupied  the  canvass,  one  succeeding  to  the  other  regularly, 
but  without  any  individuality  of  object  or  distinct  feature.  "Hut 
I  could  catch  at  intervals  a  bright  flash,  as  of  a  plume  or  jewel, 
of  particular  si/:.-  and  splendor,  leading  me  to  the  conviction  that 
what  I  beheld  was  the  progress  «.f  some  great  state  ceremonial, 
or  the  triumphal  march  of  some,  well-appointed  army.  But 
whether  the,  procession  moved  under  the  eagles  of  the  Koi.ian, 
the  horse-tails  of  the  Ottoman,  or  the  lion  banner  «>f  Kngland,  it 
was  impossible  to  ascertain.  I  could  distinguish  none  of  th< 
signs  of  battle.  The  movements  were  all  slow  and  regular. 
There  was  nothing  of  strife  or  hurry  —  none  of  the  clamor  of 
invasion  or  exultation  of  victory.  The  spectacle  passed  on  with 
a  measured  pomp,  as  if  it  belonged  to  some  sad  and  gloomy  rite, 
where  the  splendor  rather  increased  the  solemnity  to  which  it 
v,  a>  sim^y  tributary. 

C  II  A  I'T  K  R     II. 

THE  scene  changed  even  as  I  gazed.  The  crowd  had  disap 
peared.  The  vast  multitude  was  gone  from  sight,  and  min. 
which  had  strained  after  the  last  of  their  retreating  sha- 
now  dropped  its  lids  on  vacancy.  Soon,  however,  instead  of  the. 
great  waste  of  space  and  sky,  which  left  me  without  place  of  rest 
for  sight,  I  beheld  the  interior  of  a  vast  and  magnificent  hall, 
most  like  the  interior  of  some  lofty  cathedral.  The  >tyle  t)J 
building  was  arabesque,  at  once  richly  and  elaborately  wrought, 
and  sombre.  The  pointed  arches,  reached  by  half-moon  involu 
tions,  with  the  complex  carvings  and  decorations  of  on-nice, 
column,  and  ceiling,  at  once  carried  me  back  to  those  wondrous 
imens  which  the  art  of  the  Saracen  has  left  rather  for  our 
admiration  than  rivalry.  The  apartment  was  surrounded  by  a 
double  row  of  columns;  slender  .shafts  which  seemed  rather  the 
antenna:  of  graceful  plants  than  bulks  and  bodies  of  stone  and 
marble,  rising  for  near  lifi\  feet  in  height,  then  gradually 


DAL    PAL 

.     in    mini-  ..I'liiijr   twisted    and   un- 

the  support  of  th.-  vast  roof.     All  appearance 

ilk,  of  cnmhr  .'li,  Affined   lo.-t   in   the 

v   with   which    these    antenna-    Wretched    thciu- 

•inur  the  M-\  eral    arches    in    spans    of 

;\  .      The    irreat    roof   fur  which 

.    tlie   adequate   >upport.  rO8€    tun   hijrh   in   the   hut 

:d  li^ht  which  filled  the  hall,  to    enalde    me    to   gather  ; 

an    imperfect  idea  of  JN  character  and  workmanship.      1'ut 

-  jriv.it  height  the  very  incajiacity  to  define  its  character  at' 

'lieient  notion.    Where  the  light  yielded  the  de.-ired 

opportunity,   I    .'.  und   the   flowery  heanty  of  th(>  ;irchitecttu< 

every  hand,  to  he  alike  iuiniitahle.      T«>  ileserihe  it  would  he  im- 

A  thousand   exquisite   jioiuts  of  li^ht,  the  slenderest 

In-ill.  !    to    depend,  like    so   many  icicles,  from   arch    and 

—  to   fiinge.    the    several    entrances    and    windows  —  to 

D    and   rafter  ;   and  to  r,  H,  §0  ap- 

•  •ifcotly  ;i'  iliti'ul,  at  iimim-uts, 

iuteri«ir  which  1  >.r>v  them  span,  with  the 

nt  du>k)   ceiling  which  they  wi-re   intendc  1   to   Mivtain, 

not,  in  fact,  a  little  world  of  wood,  with  the  hlue  >ky  dimly 

and   tloucrs,  with    poli.-hed  woo.lland 

t8|  lavishly  ana   artfully  accumulated    in   the   open  air,  .^o  as 
6,  in  an  imperfect  li^ht,  a  deln>ive  appearance  of  archi- 

',  ina^niliceiice  and  maj«--t\  .     An  immeiiM 
foiim-.l  (,f  columns   thus   emhraccu   and    houn  .    i  v    ihe 

elaboral  :  iuta>tic    carvings,    linked    frtnOS,    !"• 

lloucrs    and    >  .ipriie.!    befon  .       •;i«!uctin^    tin- 

Rme    descnj>ti">n,  thus    coiiiir: 

.1    avenues    of  l'..re>t.      'i  uih-d 

into  othe.  .ininahle, 

-   into  lateral  ran-e>  (juite  as  wonderful  and 

til    the    dii:.    p»'i>pecti\  IS€    "f   the 

I    inful  ii    1'ility 

in   t!  E  ••ntiea 

had  il  ttions,  Miuilan;.  \\  ith  tin- 

d    ureati. 

B — \\ith  such  v;ui. 
••  only  mi.  ace  in  euiulaii  •    fancy — \\eiv   all 


356  SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 

present,  but  symmetrically  duplicated,  .so  as  to  produce  an  eq;:?Jl 
correspondence  on  each  side,  figure  answering  to  figure.  But 
these  decorations  were  mado  tributary  to  other  objects.  Num.-r 
ous  niches  opened  to  the  sight,  as  you  penetrated  the  mighty 
avenue,  in  which  stood  noble  and  commanding  forms;  —  statues 
of  knights  in  armor;  of  princes ;  great  men  wlio  had  swayed 
nations  ;  heroes,  who  had  encountered  dragons  for  the  safety  of 
the  race ;  and  saintly  persons,  who  hud  called  down  blessings 
from  heaven  upon  the  nation  in  the  hour  of  its  danger  and  its 
fear.  The  greater  number  of  these  stood  erect  as  when  in  life  ; 
but  some  sat,  some  reclined,  and  others  knelt ;  but  all,  save  for  the 
hue  of  the  marble  in  which  they  were  wrought  —  so  exquisite 
was  the  art  which  they  had  employed  —  would  have  seemed  to 
be  living  even  then.  Around  the  apartment  which  I  have  been 
describing,  were  double  aisles,  or  rather  avenues,  formed  by  sister 
columns,  corresponding  in  workmanship  and  style,  if  not  in  size, 
with  those  which  sustained  the  roof.  These  were  deep  and 
sepulchral  in  shadow,  but  withal  very  attractive  and  lovely 
places ;  retreats  of  shade,  and  silence,  and  solemn  beauty ; 
autumnal  walks,  where  the  heart  which  had  been  wounded  by 
the  shafts  and  sorrows  of  the  world,  might  fly,  and  be  secure, 
and  where  the  form,  wandering  lonely  among  the  long  shadows 
of  grove  and  pillar,  and  in  the  presence  of  noble  and  holy  images 
of  past  worth  and  virtue,  might  still  maintain  the  erect  stature 
which  belongs  to  elevated  fancies,  to  purest  purposes,  and  greal 
designs  for  ever  working  in  the  soul. 

lint  it  would  be  idle  to  attempt  to  convey,  unless  by  general 
ities,  any  definite  idea  of  the  vast  and  magnificent  theatre,  or  of 
that  singular  and  sombre  beauty  with  which  I  now  found  myself 
surrounded.  Enough,  that,  while  I  was  absorbed,  with  my  whole 
imagination  deeply  excited  by  the  architectural  grandeur  which 
I  Hirveved,  I  had  grown  heedless  of  the  progress  of  events 
among  certain  human  actors  —  if  I  may  be  thus  permitted  to  des 
ignate  the  creatures  of  a  vision  —  which  had  meanwhile  taken 
their  places  in  little  groups  in  a  portion  of  the  ample  area. 
While  mine  eyes  had  been  uplifted  in  the  contemplation  of  things 
inanimate,  it  appears  that  a  human  action  was  in  progress  (>n  a 
portion  of  the  .scene  below.  .1  was  suddenly  amused  by  a  stir 
and  bustle,  followed  by  a  faint  murmur,  as  of  applauding  voices, 


ii' 


TFIT  ION, 

whL-h  nt  length  reached  my  eals.  and  diverted  usy  gaze  from  the 
remote  ami    lofty,  to  tin-  rich    tesM-lated    pavement  of  the  apart- 
If  the   mere   splendor  i.f  the    structure    hail    so   fastened 
upon   my  imagination,  what   ran    I  say  of  the   scene  which    m>w 
commanded    my  attention  '      Then4  was  the  pomp  of  courts,  the 
pride   of  majestv,  the   glory   of  armor,  the   grace   and   cliann   of 
aristocratic  l>eauty,  in  all   her  plumage,  to  make  me  forgetful   of 
all  other  display.      I    now  heheld    groups  of  iml.le    pi-rsons,  clad 
in   courtly  dresses.  in    knightly  armor,  sahle    and    purple,  with    a 
profusion  of  Li'old   and    jewels,  rich  scarfs,  and    plumes  of  surpas- 
>plendor.     Other  groups  presented  me  with  a  most  imposing 
of  that  gorgeous  church,  whose  mitred  prelates  could  place 
their  feet  upon  the  necks  of  mightiest  princes,  and  sway,  for  good 
or  evil,  the  destinies  of  conflicting  nations.     There  were   pi' 
clad  in    flowing   garments,  courtiers   in  silks,  and  nohlest  dumcs, 
who  had  s-.vaved  in  courts    from    immemorial    time.      Their  long 
ami  rustling   trains  were  '.iphorne    hy  tlamsels   and    pagrs,  lovely 
enough,  and  rirhlv  em-u-'h   arrayed,  to   he    apt    ministers   in    the 
very    courts    of   b>Ve    himself.       A   chair   of  state,  massive,  and 
lichlv  draped  in  purple  and  gold,  with  golden  insignia,  over  which 
hung  the  jeweled  tiara  of  sovereignty,  was    raised    upon    a    ilai* 
some  five  feet  ahoye  the  level  of  the  crowd.     This  was  filled  hy 
a  tall  and  slender  person,  to  whom    all    made   obeisance  as  to  an 
imperial  master.      He  was  hahited   in  saMe,  a  single  jewel  upon 
his   hrow.  hearing  up  a  massive   shock  of  feathers  as   Mack   and 
\    as  if  wi    a-ht  out  of  sparkling  coal.      The  air  of  majesty 
•in  his  action,  the  hahitnal  command  upon  his  hrow,  left  me  in  no 
douht  of  }\\<  SMvrn'ign  state,  even  had  the  ohe'^ance  of  the  mul 
titude  heen  wanting.      Hut    he  looked  not  as  if  long   destined  to 
hold    sway  in    mortal    province^.      His    person  \\  as  meagre,  as  if 
•••(1    hy  disease.      H'^  cheeks  wen-  pah>  and  hollow  :    while  a 
peculiar  hrightne-s  of  the  eye>  shone  in  painful  contrast  with  the 
pale  and   ghastly  color  of  his   face.      Behind    his  chair  stood 
\\ho  evidently  held  the  position  of  a  favorite  and    trusted    coun 
sellor.      He  was  magnificently  hahit<-d   with  a  profusi-n  of  jewels, 
which  nevertheless  ad.  led  hut  little  to  the  nolle  air  and  exquisite 
symmetry  of  his  person.      At  intervals  he  ror.ld  he  -een  to 
ever  to    the    ear   of  the    prince,  as   if  whi-pering   him    in    secret. 
This   show   of  intimacy,   if   pleasing    to    his    superior,  was   yet 


evidently  of  different  effect  upon  many  others  in  the  assembly 

Tin-  eo.stume  of  the  place  was  that  <>f  the  Norman  sway  in  I 
land,   before    tlie    Saxons    had    (jiiite    succeeded. —  through    the 
jealousy  entertained  hy  the  kings,  of  their  nobles, —  in  obtaining 
a   share    of  those    indulgences   which    finally    paved   the  way  to 
their   recognition   hy  the    conquerors.      Yet,  even  in  thi- 
of  costume,  I  was  con>cious  ,,f  some  discrepancies.      Some  of  the 
liahits  worn  were  decidedly  Spanish;   hut  a-  the:e  were  mingled 
with  others  which  bore  conclusive  proof  of  the  p.  F  the 

wearers  in  the  wars  of  the  Crn>ades,  it  was  not  improbable  that 
they  had  heen  adopted  as  things  of  fancy,  from  a  free  com 
munion  of  the  parties  with  knights  of  Spain  whom  they  had 
encountered  in  the  Holy  Laud. 

But  J  was  not  long  permitted  to  hestow  my  regards  on  a  sub 
ject  so  subordinate  a>  dress.  The  scene  was  evidently  no  mere 
spectacle.  Important  and  adverse  hit-rests  were  depending  — 
wild  \vere  at  work,  and  the  action  of  a  very  vivid  drama 

about  to  open  upon  me.  A  sudden  blast  of  a  trumpet  pene 
trated  the  hall.  1  say  ltl«.\f,  though  the  sounds  \vere  faint 
subdued  by  distance.  But  the  note  itself,  and  the  instrument 
could  not  have  been  mistaken.  A  >:ir  ensued  among  the  spec- 
tators.  The  crowd  divided  In-fore  an  outer  door,  and  those  more 
distant  bent  forward,  looking  in  this  direction  with  an  eager  anx 
iety  which  none  seemed  disposed  t;»  conceal.  They  were  not 
long  kept  in  suspense.  A  sndden  unfolding  of  the  great  valves 
of  the  entrance  followed,  when  a  rush  was  made  from  without. 
The  tread  of  heavy  footsteps,  the  waving  of  t;dl  plumes,  and  a 
murmur  from  the,  multitude,  announced  the  presence  of  other 
parties  fur  whom  the  action  of  the  drama  was  kept  in  abeyance, 
crowd  opened  from  right  to  left,  and  one  of  the  company 
stood  alone,  with  every  eye  of  the  vast  assemblage  fixed  curi 
ously  upon  his  person. 

(HA  I'TKK    III. 

AMI  well,  apart  from  every  consideration  yet  to  he  developed, 
might  they  gaze  upon  the  princely  form  that  now  stood  erect 
and  with  something  approaching  to  defiance  in  his  air  and  man 
ner,  in  the  centre  of  tJ  :blage.  lit-  was  habited  in 


chain  anii"i.  tin-  admirable  work,  in  all  probability,  of  the  shops 

Man.     This ;'  I  thoroughly  black,  yel 

threw  nut  a  gh-s-y  In-tie  of  incredible  brightness     I'pon  hi.s 

if  thr  !«•  :iir  iiul.lt-  damsel,  a  broad  scarf 

wen  to  f!'    t     A  'vet, 

with  a  double  lo^p  in  front,  bearing  a  very  large  lirilliaiit  from 
which  rose  a  bunch  of  sable  plumes,  wafi  discarded  from  his 
brows  the  moment  that  he  stood  within  tlie  royal  presence,  lie 
stood  for  a  hi  .aing  to  survey  the  scene,  then 

;th  a  holil  ami  sonie\\hat  rapid  step,  as  il  a  natural  spirit 
of   !'•  M    had    l.een    Mimulated   into    ca^ernos    hy  a    cou- 

-  of  wnmg  and  a  just  feeling  of  indignation.      Hi- 
le   than  his  form  and  manner,  but  it 
marked  1  !    and    -\vnllen  —  and  I 

d  onward  to  thr  f'""t  i-f  the   thront',  he   glanced  fiercely  on 
either  hand,  a>  if  .-erkin^  for  an  enemy.     In  spite  of  the  fea: 

!  :    in  \\     perceive    that   he  wa>  under 
••raint  and   in  halherdi. 

upon    hi.s   cour.-e,  and  e\  idently  stood    prejtared  and  watchful  of 
very  movement      A-  he  approached  the  throne,  the  M-veral 

p-onp>  ^-ave  \\ n\    before  him,  and  he  stood,  with  unobstructed 

D,  in  the  immediate   p.  :    the   monarch.      I',  r   an  in- 

slant    he    remained    erect,    with    a   mien   unsuhdued    and    a; 
haujrhtv,  \\hile  a  h>w  murmur  —  as    I    fancied,  of  indignation  — 
rose  in  various  portion*;  .»f  the  hall.     The  face  of  the  king  him 
self  seemed    suddenly  ilu>hed,  and  a  lively  play  of  the   inn 
of  his   countenance  led    me  to    1-clieve  that  he  u  as  ahont  t" 
utterance   to    his   anger;   hut,  at  this  moment,  the   stranger  Mink 

•  •fully  h;:r  upon  his  knee.  and.  lending  his  foiv; 

with  a  studied  humility  in  h.  ition,  di.-armed,  if  it  had 

felt,  the  indignation  1.1  'I'hi>  d-uu-.  lie  ro>e  to  hid 

with  a  manly  ease,  and  stood  silent,  in  an  attitude  of  expec- 

n,  hut  with  a  calm,  martial  erer-  :    cut  fiom 

the  inflexihle  , 

The  king  >i"dxe.  hut  the  words  were  inaudible  to  my  earfc 
There  wa.-  a  nui.  nur  fnun  variou^  parts  of  the  assembly.  Se\ 
eral  VOICei  f-dlowe  I  that  of  the  monarch,  but  of  theM  1  coul«J 

M  only  judge  of  the  charac 

;'  what  was  said  by  its  startling  •  D  the  stranger.     I/ 


3GO  SOUTHWAIID    HO  ! 

excited  before,  lie  seemed  to  lie  almost  maddened  now.  HJs 
eyes  followed  the  murmuring  voices  from  side  to  side  of  tip 
seinlily,  with  a  fearful  flashing  energv,  which  made  them  dilate, 
as  if  endangering  the  limits  of  their  reddened  sockets.  A  like 
feverish  and  impatient  fury  threw  his  form  into  spasmodic  action. 
His  figure  seemed  to  rise  and  swell,  towering  above  the  lest. 
His  arms  were  stretched  in  the  direction  of  the  assailiii"-  voices. 

O 

His  clenched  fist  seemed  to  threaten  the  speakers  with  in 
stant  violence.  Unintimidated  by  the  presence  in  which  he 
stood,  his  appearance  was  that  of  a  subject,  not  only  too  strong 
for  his  superior,  but  too  confident  and  presumptuous  for  his  own 
self-subjection,  even  in  the  moment  of  greatest  peril  to  himself. 

He  resumed  his  composure  at  last,  and  the  murmur  < 
around  him.  Then-  was  deep  silence,  and  the  eyes  of  the  stran 
ger  were  fixed  rigidly  upon  those  of  his  prince.  The  latter  was 
evidently  moved.  His  hand  was  extended  —  something  he  spoke 
which  I  again  lost ;  but,  strange  to  say,  the  reply  of  the  stranger 
came  sharply  and  distinctly  to  my  ear. 

"Swear!  Why  should  I  swear?  Should  I  call  upon  the 
Holy  Evangel  as  my  witness,  when  I  sec  not  my  accuser?  Let 
him  appear.  Let  him  look  me  in  the  face,  if  there  be  lord  or 
knight  in  this  assembly  so  bold,  and  tell  me  that  I  am  guilty  of 
this  treason.  Sire !  I  challenge  my  accuser.  I  have  no  other 
answer  to  the  charge!" 

CH  A  PTER     I  V. 

THE  lips  of  the  king  moved.  The  nobleman  who  stood  be 
hind  his  throne,  and  whom  I  conceived  to  be  his  favorite,  bent 
down  and  received  his  orders;  then  disappeared  behind  one  of 
the  columns  whose  richly-decorated,  but  slender  shafts,  rose  up 
directly  behind  him,  like  some  graceful  stems  of  the  fore.-t.  <>\er 
which  the  wildering  vine,  and  the  gaudy  parasite  clambers  with 
an  embrace  that  kiHs.  But  a  few  moments  elapsed  when  the 
favorite  reappeared.  He  was  accompanied  by  a  person,  whose 
peculiar  form  and  aspect  will  de>erve  especial  description. 

In  that  hall,  in  the  presence  of  princes,  surrounded  by  knights 
and  nobles  of  the  proudest  in  the  land,  the  person  newly  come — 
though  seemingly  neither  knight  nor  noble — was  one  of  the  mosl 


mi;  MAGICIAN. 

_v,  and    most    imposing   and    impressix e  i.. 
.md  manner.      II-'  'aller  than  the  race  of  : 

urral.  bul  taller   than  any  in   tl. 

l.v  which  In-  w**  $   »•  did  liis  featu 

TOD,      Tln-M-  were  -insularly  ii-.l,l«-,  and  of  Italian 

.cter.    Hi-  face  v.  M  large,  and  of  tin-  most  p< 

oval.     Though  that  of  a  man  who  had  probably  MTU  and  MilVrivd 
under    sixtv  wintei-.  it    still    boiv    the    proof-    of  a  beauty    • 
iviiiarkal.U'.      It  Mill  retained  a  youthful  freshness,  which  B] 
t'«r  a  c-t'iiscii'iu'i'  fivr  fnnu  n-iimi-M1  and    stdf-ivjn-oarh.      Hi-  • 
Wen  "f  a  mild,  I. lit   holily  BXpreSfflVe    blue;    and    hencath    their 
ratluM-  thin  white  l»n.\vs,  were   declarative  of  more   than   human 

forehead  waft  very  large  and  1  great 

!th   and   c<»m|»a>s,  in   the   n  ideality  and   suhlimity, 

IBalitj  ;   while   his   hair,  thick   still,  and   depending 
from   hehind   his  head   in   numerous    waving   curls,  was,  lik. 

1,  of  the  in<i>t  -ilvery  whiteness.      '['. 
ly,  upon    hi>   l»n-a>t,  which    it  covered  alnio.-t  to  tin-  wai.st. 

flexion  was  very  jtale,  hut  nf  a  ch-ar  \shi:  i  harniM- 

nixed  .-weetly  with   the   anti«|iie   heauty  and   power  of  his   head. 

II       costume    tiitfered    in    style,  texture    and    stutV,  rntiivly  from 

that  which  prevailed  in  the  assi-nihly.     A  h'ose  white  rohe,  \\-liich 

nded  tV«>ui  his  .shoulders  to  the  ground,  was  hound  about  hi* 

hody  hy  a  hell  of  plain  Spanish  leather,  and  \\orn  with  a  _ 

and    nohleness    perfectly  majestical.      H>    feel    '•  '  • '     clothed  ii: 

-li  >andals.      Hut  there  was  nothing  pnnnl  or  haughty  in  his 

On    the   contrary,  it  wa>    in  contrast  with  the  evident 

humility  in  hi>  eye  and  gesture,  that  his  di-nity  of   hearing 

eim-d  to  !„•  a-  much  the  fiuit  of  pure  and 
elevated  thoughts,  calm  and  re.sL  ;'  that  Miperior  ph;. 

•j'-n  which  made    this   a^ed  man  t»\\* 
the  rest,  in  p«T>on,  as  he  certainly  did  in  air  and  mam  - 

11,-  .        <    ;.  U  hr  ajipeare-!.  to  the  loot  of  the  tin. 

fully  .-unk  liet'ore    it,  then  rising,  stood    in    ijiiiet.  ai   a\\aiti:  . 

,1    command    to    -jn-ak.       Hi-    appraram-e  to  till    the 

iiihlv   \\itli  eau'er  curiosity.      A   sudden    liusli  jut-vailed  a-  lit! 

approached,  the  natural  result  of  that  a\\e  \\liich  ^reat  sup<-rior- 

•ty  usually  inspires  in   the  f  ignorance.     There  was  buj 

v>c  (ace  uiuuiij^  ti.     . 


3G2  iiiwAiin  no! 


as  In-  came  in   sight.     Tliis  was  (liat  of  tl  >  il.     Witli  tin- 

first   coining  of  t1  !    had   instinctively  fixed  mj 

•    upon    the    countenance   of  the   nobleman.     I  could   ea>ih 

discern    tliat   his    lips  were    compressed    as   if  ,  n    effort 

while  his  UMinlly  florid  features  were  covered  with  a  momentary 

piilene  —  .      This  emotion,  with    the   utter   alienee  of  that  air  of 

curiosity  which   marked   every  other  viv  k  mo,  at  once 

'iiewhat  .significant  of  guilt. 

"  1'iehnld  thy  accuser!"  exclaimed  the  sovereign. 

"  He!  the  hookworm!  —  the  dreamer!  —  the  madman!  —  sor- 
•r  to  the  vulgar,  hut  less  than  dotard  to  the  wise  !  Does  your 
majesty  look  to  a  star-gaxer  for  such  evidence,  as  will  degrade 
with  shame  the  nohles  of  your  realm  ?  Sire  !  —  if  no  sorcerer, 
this  old  man  is  verily  distraught!  He  is  lunatic  or  vile  —  a 
madman,  or  a  bought  servitor  of  Satan  !" 

The  veneralde  man  thus.  scornfully  denounced,  stood,  mean 
while,  looking  sorrowful  and  subdued,  hut  calm  and  unruffled,  at 
the  foot  of  the  dai*.  His  eye  ivsteil  a  moment  upon  the  speaker, 
then  turned,  as  if  to  listen  to  that  speech,  with  which  the  favor 
ite,  behind  the  throne  of  the  monarch,  appeared  to  reply  to  the 
language  of  the  accused.  This  1  did  not  hear,  nor  yet  that 
which  the  sovereign  addressed  to  the  same  peison.  But  the 
import  might  he  divined  by  the  answer  of  the  accused. 

"And  I  say,  your  majesty,  that  what  he  hath  alleged  is  lal>e 
—  all  a  fal.se  and  hitter  falsehood,  de\  ised  -by  cunning  and  malice 
to  work  out  the  purposes  of  hate.  My  word  against  his  —  my 
gaunt!.  •{  against  the  world.  1  defy  him  to  the  proof!  I  defy  all 
my  acriiM-rs  !" 

"And  he  shall   have  the  truth,  your   inajotv."    was  the   firm, 

with  which    the  venerable    man    responded    to  this 

defiance.      His  tone.-,  ran-    through    the  assembly  like  those  of  a 

t    bell    in    the  wilderne^.  —  ••  My    life,  sire,    is    sworn    to    tin- 

truth!       1    can    speak    no   other   Ian-  1'hal    1    have    said 

nothing  falsely  of  this  lord,  I  invoke  the  attoiati.ui  of  the  Lord 

oi  ail.      I  have  had  his  sacred  volume  hiought  into  this  presence 

You  shall  know,  sire,  what   1   believe,  by  \\hat    I  swear!" 

He  madr  a  Mrp  aside,  even  \\  bile  he  spoke,  to  a  little  girl  whom 
I  had  not  before  seen,  'but  who  had  evidently  followed  him  into 
the  assembly.  »Shc  iiou  approached,  bearing  in  her  hands  onu 


run  363 

lamwcripti  of  an  eanj  «lay  of  Chris 
tian  in    Kurope.  \vhicli   arc   now  worth   their   we'^ht  in 

e  .'olumr, 

an,l    :  I    them   to  he    Ilehiew.      TliC  \\ork,  frmn 

.•mil   tin-  086   t"  which  hi-  applied  it,  I  .".Burned  to 

the  II..ly  E  He  i  --tly  fr.)in  tho 

t-ljil,;  11   one  of  the  steps  of  the  </<//>, 

head    f<>r   a  moment,  1 

Dr.      Then    raising   his    eyes,  hut    without 
:ie   hand   upon  this  volume, 
heaven,  and,  will 

...'.  the  Holy  Kvaiip-li-ts.  to  witness  that  what 
],,.  l,a,l  v.  the  truth,  and  the 

truth   onlv — -jiokcn  \\ith   no  malice—  no  wicked  or  evil  intent 

:   the  evil 

1."      In   this   j.oMmv,  and   thus   allirmin^.  he 
•laiv    that  "  th-  I    had    applied    to  him  ! 

wlrich    ^umlil    have    tlie    p<.\\ti    of  iiMirpiu^   lite 
;:i^  any  of  those  Mrikhi£  etVect>  njioa 

tin-  i.utuard  P  '.ild  induce  Mispieimi  of  criminal  jtrac: 

11-    a  ;    .    i,  with  other  particulars,  that  "the  accused  had  invited 
him,  under    certain  temptations,  which    had    heen    Micceeded   by 

:\   to  hi>  tlie  victim  of 

•  then  Mttinjr  upon  the  throne." 

CIlAl'TKK     V. 

truer  of  the  a>.-e\ ci •ati--n>  which  lie   made,  for- 

,    by  numerou>   iletail.s,  all   tendinu'   Mron^ly  to   confirm   the 

tniti.  ,  liis  own  t. Alimony  OHC  relied  on. 

•  hie  in  tl. 

;   ami  the  particulars  which 

a'.l  >o  prolial.ly  ai  well  put  together,  and 

ntirmation  of  "ther  circuin.-' 

that    all    around    appr:: 

impre>.>ed  with    the  in-  that     hi>  accusation 

,,-uce  foli 
oiii^uuJ   the  tfuilt_\ 


304  SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 

Me.     Tlit-  sad  countenance  of  the  monarch  deepened  to  -everity 

while  a  smile  of  triumph  and  exultation  rose  to  that  of  the  f;m  r- 

ite  behind   his  throne.      At  this   sight    the  act-used  person    recov- 

all  his  audacity.     With  half-choking  utterance,  ami  features 

iling  with  fury  rather  than  faltering  with  fear,  he  demanded. 

"  Am  I  to  he  heard,  your  majesty  ?" 

A  wave  of  the  monarch's  hand  gave  him  the  desired  permis 
sion,  and   his  reply  hurst   forth  like  a  torrent.     He  gave  th- 
t.>  his  accuser,  whom  he  denounced   as  an  impostor,  as  one  who 
the  creature  of  his  and   the  king's  enemies,  and   tampering, 
elf,  with  the  sovereign's  life  while  pretending  to  minister  to 
his  ailments.     He  ridiculed,  with  bitterness  and  scorn,  the  notion 
any  faith   should   be  given  to  the  statements,  though  even 
;-od  on  oath,  of  one  whom  he   affirmed  to   he  an  unbeliever 
iiid  a  Jew;    and,  as  if  to  crown  his  defence  with  a  seal  no  less 
nnpressive  than  that  of  his  accuser,  he  advanced  to  the  foot  of 
•hronc,  grasped  the  sacred  volume  from  the  hands  by  uhirh 
as   upheld,    and    kneeling,   with   his   lips    pressed    upon    the 
nod   pages,  he   imprecated   upon  himself,  if  his  denial   were 
not  the  truth,  all  the  treasured  wrath  and  thunder  in  the  stores 
of  Heaven  ! 

accuser  heard,  with  uplifted  hands  and  looks  of  holy  hor 
ror,  the  wild  and   terrible  invocation.     Almost  unconsciously  his 
M-ted  with  the  comment : — 

1   have   mercy   upon   your  soul,  my  lord,  for  you   have 
.•])«ken  a  most  awful  perjury  !" 

The  king  looked  bewildered,  the  favorite  behind  him  dissatis 
fied,  and  the,  whole,  audience  apparently  stunned  by  equal  incer 
titude  and  excitement.  The  eyes  of  all  parties  fluctuated  be 
tween  the  arrn.-ed  and  the  accuser.  They  MOMI  but  a  few  paces 
asunder.  The  former  looked  like  a  man  who  onlv  with  a  irreat 

Struggle  Succeeded  in  controlling  his  fury.      The  latter  st 1  BOf- 

rowful,  but  calm.  The  little  girl  who  had  brought  in  the  h<dv 
volume  stood  before  him,  with  one  <>f  lii.s  hands  re-ting  upon  her 
head.  Her  feature-  greatly  resembled  his  own.  She  looked 
terrified;  her  eyes  fastened  ever  upou  the  face  of  her  father's 
enemy  with  a  countenance  of  equal  curiosity  and  suspicion. 
Some  conversation,  the  sense  of  which  did  not  reach  me,  now 
ensued  •  llic  King  and  two  of  his  counsellors,  to  which 


Til 

I'ln-    fin,  • 

'iv  other  testimony  Imt  that  which  you  yourself 
niVrr  of  the  truth  of  your  accu>ati<>n. 

"  N. .11.',  your  majesty.     !   have  no  pril  i.iy  truth  hut 

ami  it  is  not  t'or  vain  inais  to  pi«  him  at  what 

his  testimony  should  he  given.     In  bringing  thi.- 
tion,  mv  purp  -t  the  destruction  ot' tlu-  criminal, but  the. 

1   I  am  tin-  more  happy  that  n-- 

111    now  !  :    my    ch.  :Vom    the    dreadful 

oath  which  he  has  just   taken,  he  places   it    out  of  the  power   "f 

human  trihunal  to  between  i        i       the  saoM 

sire,  lie  is  in  no  condition  to  Miller  death  !      Let  him  live  ! 
enou-h  for  me   that    yoni   i  from  the  present,  and 

has  been  warned  against  all  future  danger  at  his  hands." 

••  Hut  not  enough  for  me  !"  cried  the  accused,  breaking  in  im- 
jietuoii^lv.      "I    have    heen    charged  with    a    foul  crime  ;     1   : 

-cutcheon    from  the   shame.      I  will   not  rest    heneath  it. 
If  this  Jewifh    BOrceier  hath   no  hetter  proof  than  his  own 
16,  I  demand  from  your  maje-ry  the  wairer  of  hattle  !    I 
invoke  (I«,d  and  the  h!  M,  in  te.stimony  of  my  iniHK-. 

This  enemy  hath    slandered    me;     1  will    wash    out   the    slander 
with  his  hhiod  !    1    demand    the  trial.  :i^t  mine, 

according  to  the  laws  and  custom  of  this  realm." 

••  It  can  not  he  denied  '"  \\  as  the  cry  from  many  void 

d  grave  and  troubled.      Th-  the  kin^  • 

I    sadlv  uj'on  the  vi-nerahle    accuser.      The    latter  .-eemed  t<: 
understand  tin-  rxjire^sion. 

"  I  am  not  a  man  of  hh>od,  your   majesty.      Strife    hath    h.n^' 
1  from  thi>  ho.som  ;    carnal  weapons  ha\e  h-nj;  heen 
discarded  from   these  hands." 

"Let    him    find    a   champion!"  was   the    tierce   an>\\er  of  the 

\nd  of  what  avail  to  me."  n-turned    the  accuser,  "the  1  . 
valor  of  the  hireling  wli««  >ell>  for  wa^re>  the  strength  of  hi.-  man 
hood,  and    perils  for  piin    tin-  .-afety  of  hi^  lifr.      Little    should  I 
hop,-  from    the  -kill  <>f  such  A9  he.  0] 

"  Ah.  .  '    thoii     '  i  h<-    r\  ulliiiLT 


306  i  HWAHD    HO  ! 

accused;  "but,  if  thy  cause  lie  that,  of  truth,  as  thou  hast  chal 
lenged  the  Most  High  to  witness,  what  hast  thou  to  fear?  The 
stars  which  thou  searchest  nightly,  will  they  not  do  1. attic  in 
thy  h.'half  ?" 

"  Methinks,"  said  the  favorite,  who  now  advanced  from  hehind 
the  throne,  "  inethiuks,  old  man,  thou  hast  hut  too  little  reiian'-.' 
on  the  will  and  power  of  God  to  assist  thee  in  this  matter.  It  i.x 
for  him  to  strengthen  the  feeblest,  where  he  is  innocent,  and  in 
the,  ranks  of  war  to  do  successful  battle  with  the  best  and 
bravest.  Is  it  not  written,  '  The  race  is  not  always  to  the  swift, 
nor  the  triumph  to  the  strong!'" 

"  Ah  !  do  I  not  know  this,  my  lord  ?  Do  not  think  that  I  ques 
tion  the  power  of  the  Lord  to  do  marvels,  whenever  it  becomes  his 
will  to  do  so  ;  but  who  is  it,  believing  in  God's  might  and  mercy, 
that  flings  himself  idly  from  the  steep,  with  the  hope  that  an  an 
gel's  wings  shall  be  sent  to  bear  him  up.  I  have  been  taught  by 
the  faith  which  I  profess,  to  honor  the  Lord  our  God,  and  not  to 
tempt  him  ;  and  I  do  not  readily  believe  that  we  may  command 
the  extraordinary  manifestations  of  his  power  by  any  such  vain 
and  uncertain  issue  as  that  which  you  would  now  institute.  I 
believe  not  that  the  truth  is  inevitably  sure  to  follow  the  wager 
and  trial  of  battle,  nor  will  I  lean  on  the  succor  of  any  hireling 
weapon  to  avouch  for  mine." 

"It  need  be  no  hireling  sword,  old  man.  The  brave  and  the 
noble  love  adventure,  for  its  own  sake,  in  the  paths  of  danger  ; 
and  it  may  be  that  thou  shalt  find  some  one,  even  in  thi*  assem 
bly,  noble  as  him  thou  accuses!,  and  not  less  valiant  with  his 
weapon,  who,  believing  in  thy  truth,  shall  be  willing  to  do  bat 
tle  in  thy  behalf.'' 

"Thyself,  perchance!"  cried  the  accused,  impetuously,  ana 
turning  a  fiery  glance  upon  the,  speaker.  In  this  glai:ce  it 
s.-emed  to  me  that  I  could  discover  a  far  greater  degree  of  bit 
terness  and  hate  than  in  any  which  lie  had  shown  to  his  accuser. 
"  It  is  thyself  that  would  do  this  battle.  ?  Ha  !  thou  art  he,  then, 
equally  noble  and  not  less  valiant,  art  thou  ?  Be  it  BO  !  It  will 
rejoice  me  shouldst  thou  venture  thy  body  in  this  quarrel.  But 
I  know  thee  —  thou  lovest  it  too  well — thou  durst  not." 

"Choose  me  for  thy  champion,  old  man,1'  \va->  the  further 
speech  of  the  favorite,  with  a  difl  rt  to  be  calm.  "  I  will 


TIII  367 

In   battle    for  -tain    tlic  right   in 

thy  ' 

••  'I'!i. .11  >hal:  .Claimed  the  king,  vehemently,  luit  feebly, 

half  rising    as    he    spoke,  and    turning   to    the    favorite. 
slialt  not  !    I  command  thee  mix  not  in  this  matter." 

M  .    hut   in    such   a   feeble    tone   that   it  failed    t<. 

When    the    king    grew    .-.'dent,    the    fa\ 

•  I  with    subiiL  -id    sunk    again    heliiiul    the 

tin-'-:.  ";1    smile    passed    over   the  lips  of  the  ace 

who  looked,  with  a  bitter  ii.:  up»n  a  little  group 

.ingly  his  friends  and  supporter^,  wko  had  partly  grouped 
themselves  around  him.  Following  his  glance,  a  moment  after 
toward  the  r«>yal  perM>n,  I  was  attracted  by  a  movement,  th- 

;he  uplifted  hand  of  the  favorite.      It 
_rn  to  th.-  accused,  the  former  withdrawing  the  gl 
from  his  right  hand,  a   moment  after,  and  flinging  it,  with  I 

.nt  action,  to  the  tloor  behind  him.      The  accused,  whispered 
who  immediately  >!->le  a\\ay  and  disapjieareil 
.  sight.      But   a   little  while   elapsed  when    I    beheld  him  ap 
proach    the  .spot  where  the   glove  had  fallen,  recover  it   adroitly, 
and    COnvey  it,  UUperceived,  into   his   I>OM>M.      All   this   by-play, 
thou.  ibt    app;  :.:any  in    the    as-soinhlv,  was   evi- 

y  uii>een  and  nnsu.-pected  by  the  king.  J  inferred  the  rank 
luxuriance  of  the  practice  of  chivalry  in  this  region,  from  the 
nicety  \\ith  which  the  a  flair  was  conducted,  and  tl:  .  nice 

.    whom  it  had  beei:  wi;ne»ed,  to  ma!  -port 

...it  they  had  hehehl.      The-  •,    tho 

accuser. 

"  1  am  aware,  your  :.  hat  by  the  laws  and  practi<  • 

Of  battle  -hal- 

...  or  other  cii;, 

whom  there  shall  be  no  witiie->  l,ut  tin- 
It  is  not  the  fear  :  which  make.s  me  unwilling 
this  contiirt  ;  it  is  the  fear  •  : 

in  the  hands  «.f  the  L-id,  \  . 

me  that   he    h  t.i  take  place.       Now    I    do 

coulees  that    1  :ion  of' the  (jod  of 

be    a  w!ine»  in  a 

us   [<>  abhor  —  a    >liite   gio.-.-ly  m  variance  with    hi.-  :tleil 

ami  divine  onlinan,-. 


868  SOUTHWARD    HO! 

•*  I  ;un  grieved,  old  man,  to  hoar  you  speak  this  language, H 
was  tlic  grave  censure  of  one  who,  from  his  garmonN.  soonioil 
to  ho.  very  high  in  authority  and  tho  church.  "What  thon 
ost  is  in  direct  roproacli  of  holy  church,  which  lias  frequently 
called  in  the  assistance  of  mortal  force  and  human  weapons  to 
put  down  tho  infidel,  to  crush  tho  wrOng-doer,  and  to  restore 
that  peace  which  can  only  o\vo  her  continued  exUtenec  to  tho 
presence  ever  of  a  just,  readiness  for  war.  Methmks  thon 
hast  scarcely  shown  thyself  enough  rovoroul  in  tliis  thy  hold 
opinion." 

"  Holy  father,  I  mean  not  offence  !  I  do  not  douht  that  war, 
with  short-sightedness  of  hnman  wisdom,  has  appeared  to  secure 
the.  advantages  of  peace.  I  holieve  that  God  has  endowed  us 
with  a  strength  for  tho  struggle,  and  with  a  wisdom  that  will 
enahle  us  to  pursue  it  with  success.  These  we  aro  to  employ 
when  necessary  for  the  protection  of  the  innocent,  and  ti.e 
cue  and  safety  of  those  who  aro  themselves  unwilling  to  do 
harm.  But  1  am  unwilling  to  believe  that  immortal  princi 
ples —  the  truth  of  man,  and  the  value  of  his  assurances — arc 
to  depend  upon  the  weight  of  his  own  hlows,  or  the  address  with 
which  he  can  ward  off  the  assaults  of  another.  Were  this  tho 
ease,  then  would  the  strong-limbed  and  brutal  sold'or  be  always 
the  solo  arbiter  of  truth,  and  wisdom,  and  all  moral  government." 

Wo  need  not  pursue  the  argument.  It  has  long  sine- 
settled,  though  with  partial  results  only  to  humanity,  as  w»'ll  by 
the  pagan  as  the  Christian  philosopher.  But,  however  inge 
nious,  true,  or  eloquent,  was  the  venerable  speaker  on  this  ooca- 
si'>n,  his  arguments  were,  entirely  lost  upon  that  assembly.  He 
hims.-lf  soon  perceived  that  the  effect  was  unfavorable  to  his 
cause,  and  exposed  his  veracity  to  question.  With  a  proper 
v.is.bmi,  therefore,  he,  yielded  promptly  to  the  current.  But 
first  he  asked  :  — 

"  And  what,  may  it  please  your  majesty,  if  I  decline  this 
ordeal  ?" 

"Death  !"  was  the  reply  of  mure  than  one  stern  voice  in  ths 
assembly.  "  Death  by  fire,  by  the,  burning  pincers,  by  the 
tortures  of  the  screw  and  rack." 

The  venerable  man  replied  calmly. 

"Life,  is  a  duty!     Life,  is    preciou*  !"      He    spoke,  musingly. 


IE    TAKIl.V    UP. 

looking  down,  a*  he  spoke,  upon  the  little  girl  who  stood  hp>ide 
linn,  while  the  hi-  'hered  in  his  eyes  as  he  gazed. 

>u  demand  a  champion  ?"    was  the  inquiry  of  the  king 
If.  in    behalf  of   my   truth,  this    hattle    must    bo 
:it,  its  dangers  must  he  mine  only." 
"Thine!"   exclaimed  the  favorite. 

"  Ay.  my  lord       mine.     \one  other  than  myself  must  encoun 
ter  this  peril." 

A   murmur   of  ridicule    j  assed    through    the   assembly.     The 

laughed   outright,  as   the   exulting  warrior  laughs,  with 

lii>  captive  nake.l  heneath  his  weapon.      A  brief  pause  followed, 

and    a    visible    anxiety    prevailed    among  the    audience.     Their 

ridicule  alVorded  to  the  accuser  siith'cient  occasion  for  reply  :  — 

"  This    murmur  of  surprise  and    ridicule   that  I  hear  on  cverv 
hand,  is  of  itself  a  sutlicient  commentary  upon  this  trial  of  truth 

<>f  hattle.      It  nemfl  to  all  little  less  than  mad: 
that  a  fee!  le  old    man  like   myself,  even    though  in  the  can 
right,  >hot:ld    opj.ose  himself  to  the    most  valiant  warrior   in  the 
lom,      Vet.  if  it  he  true   that  God  will   make  himself  maui- 
^  hat    matters  it  whether    I    be   old   or  young, 
weak.  welUkilled  or  ignorant  in  arms?      If  there 
wisdom    in    this    mode   of   trial,  the   feeblest    rush,  in    main- 
t. -nance  of  the  truth,  were   mighty  against  the  steel-clad   bosom 
-.f  the  bravest.      1  take  the  peril.      I  will  meet  this  bold  criminal, 
nothing  fearing,  and  will,  in  my  own  person,  outage  in  the   bat 
tle  which    i>   ihus   forced    upon    me.      But   I  know  not  the  use  of 
lance,  or   iWOfd,  Of    bat!  .  capons    are    foreign    to 

my    haiK  .  iiiirted    me    to    u>e    such    implements    of 

31    and   understanding   mav  invent,  and    1 
may  think  proper  to  employ 

"Thou  shah  086  DO  evil  aits  "Id  man,"  exclaimed  the  church 

man    who    ha.  -j.oken.   anticipating    the    answer   of   th« 

monarch.  I/*  no    chaniK.no    spell  ursed  de- 

I  warn    th.-e.  if  thou   ait    found    guilty   of   art* 

l>k'    '  >i  >halt  Mindy  j.«-n>li  bv  iii 

Of  the.M-.  lioly  father,  shall    I    employ.       My  arts    -shall 

be  tho.s,.   only.  ;he    principle.^  .if  which   I    shall    proclaim    to  thy 

I    an\    nohle    genth-man   of   the  king's   household.      M  x 

|    >ns   bhall    be    those,   oidy  which    a    human  intelligence 


370  SOUTH \v.\i: i)  HO  ! 

prepare.  They  belong  to  the  studies  which  I  pursue  —  to  the 
same  studies  which  have  enabled  me  to  arrive  at  truths,  some 
of  which  thou  thyself  hast  IK-CM  pleased  to  acknowledge,  and 
which,  until  I  had  discovered  them,  had  been  hidden  from  the 
experience  of  men.  It  can  not  be  held  unreasonable  and  un 
righteous  that  I  employ  the  weapons  the  virtues  of  which  I 
know,  when  my  enemy  uses  those  for  which  he  is  renowned  .''' 

Some  discussion  followed,  the  demand  of  the  accuser  being 
strenuously  resisted  by  the  friends  of  the  acr.ised. 

"  The  weapons  for  knightly  encounter,'  said  they,  "  have 
long  since  been  acknowledged.  These  are  sword,  and  battle- 
axe,  and  spear." 

"But  I  am  no  knight,"  was  the  reply;  "and  as  it  is  permit 
ted  to  the  citizen  to  do  battle  with  staff  and  cudgel,  which  are 
his  wonted  weapons,  so  may  it  be  permitted  to  me  to  make  use 
of  those  which  are  agreeable  to  my  strength,  experience,  and 
the  genius  of  my  profession." 

Some  demur  followed  from  the  churchman. 

"  Holy  father,"  replied  the  accuser,  "  the  sacred  volume  should 
be  your  guide  as  it  is  mine.  My  claim  is  such  as  seems  already, 
in  one  famous  instance,  to  have  met  the  most  decisive  sanction 
of  God  himself." 

Here  he  unfolded  the  pages  of  the  Holy  Scriptures. 

•«  Goliah,"  said  he,  "  was  a  Philistine  knight,  who  came  into 
battle  with  the  panoply  of  his  order.  David  appeared  with 
stall',  and  sling,  and  stone,  as  was  proper  to  the  >hepherd.  He 
rejected  the  armor  with  which  Saul  would  have  arrayed  him  for 
the  combat.  The  reproach  of  the  Philistine  knight  comprises 
the  objection  which  is  offered  here  —  'Am  I  a  do^.'  said  (Joliah, 
'  that  thou  comest  to  me  with  staves?'  The.  answer  of  David, 
0  king!  shall  be  mine:  '  And  all  this  assembly  shall  know  that 
the  Lord  saveth  not  with  sword  and  spear;  for  the  battle  i>  the 
Lord's,  and  he  will  give  you  into  our  hands.'  Such  were  his 
words  —  they  are  mine.  God  will  deliver  me  from  the  rage  «»f 
mine  enemy.  I  will  smite  him  through  all  his  panoply,  and  ii. 
spite  of  shield  and  spear." 

He  spoke  with  a  momentary  kindling  of  his  eyes,  which  was 
§0011  succeeded  by  an  expre->ioii  of  sadness. 

"And  yet,  O  king!    1  would   hr  -pared  this  trial.     My  bean 


371 

fove-  not  .Us  in   horror   frmn  the   shedding 

of  human    hi  it    my    hands. 

Stiver  Hi'  •••  white,  and   clear  of  tliis  sacri- 

:  v   man  live;    for  as  surely  as  we  strive 

mu.st  he  JUT: 

A-  tin-   paasetl]  all    belief.  U    it    ]>:isM>th   all  human  endr- 

'  :imt'd   th.  .   i    with    irrepressibh-   indignation. 

11  I  claim  tin-  combat.  ()  king,  "ii   any  condition.      L»  t  him  come 

as   he  will,  with   what   weapons    he   may,  though    forged    in   the 

armory  of  Satan.      My  tali-man    i-    in    the   ln;lv    cross,  and 

.rood  sword    buckled    at   my  thigh    hy  tin 

rhrUendoni,  will  not  fail  me  against  the  devil  and  all  his  works. 
and  the  com). at  !" 

v  within  three  days!"  said  the  king. 

".hiuit,"  replied    the  agrd  man.      "  I  tni>t  in  the  m«  : 

11   me   against   thi^   trial,   and   to  acquit  me  of  its 

•    e  answer  of  the  accused,  as  with 

ami  he  clutched   fiercely  the  handle  of  his  s-wurd,  until   the 
in  in  the  iron  scabbard. 

CHAPTRR     VII. 

Tin:  M-ene  underwent  a  Midden  change,  and  T  now  found 
••If  in  a  -mall  and  dimly-lighted  apartment,  which  >eemed 
_ned  equally  f-T  a  Mndio  and  a  laboratnry  of  art. 

irruunded    hy   enormous    cases,  on    the    shelvi 
^hii-h  wr  i-.dls  of  vellnni,  1  Imient    manu- 

.nd   volumes    t  pa   of   hr;,:,s   and   silver. 

.      (Charts  hung  wi 
»'ll;l:  -iiu>  Mi>jien<ie.i  aK 

.      Other  furniture,  of  quaint  and  strange 
f;i"b:  ;Vl.ly  that  the 

rrol'igy.      II.-  had   other  jmrMiits  —  a 
the  coals  of  whir!.  ..  cor 

ner   of   the   chamber,    near    whi.  '.        \  a    table    covered    with 

!  all  tlio 

:nalia  which  D  |  ,'.  .  •       ,  ->rker 

iii  el  .  i    ,u 


872  SOUTHWARD  no! 

the  prrvions  scone,  wore,  at  first,  the  only  occupants  of  tl  e 
apartment.  Hnt  a  few  moments  elapsed,  however,  when  an 
inner  door  was  thrown  open,  and  a  third  party  appeared,  closely 
enveloped  in  a  cloak  <>f  sable.  This  he  threw  aside,  and  I  dis 
covered  him  to  he  the  same,  person  who  had  been  the  chief  coun 
sellor  of  tin-  kin-,  and  whom  I  supposed  to  be  his  favorite.  At 
his  entrance  the  damsel  disappeared.  The  stranger  then,  some 
what  abruptly,  began  in  the  following  manner:  — 

1   Why,  ()  why  did  yon  not  choose  me  for  your  champion  V 

"And  why,  my  lord,  expose  y,,n  t«>  a  conflict  with  one  of  the 
bravest  warriors  in  all  the  realm?" 

"  He  is  brave,  but  I  fear  him  not  :  besides,  he  who  fights 
against  guilt  hath  a  strength  of  arm  which  supplies  all  deficien 
cies.  Hut  it  is  not  too  late.  I  may  still  supply  your  place." 

"Forgive,  me.  dear  lord,  but  1  have  made  my  election." 

"Alas,  old  man,  why  are  yon  thus  obstinate?  He  will  slay 
yon  at  the  first  encounter." 

"  And  if  he  does,  what  matter  !  I  have  but  a  brief  space  to 
live,  according  to  the  common  allotment.  He  hath  more,  which 
were  well  employed  devoted  to  repentance.  It  were  terrible, 
indeed,  that,  he  should  be  hurried  before  the  awful  tribunal  of 
Heaven  with  all  the  blackness  in  his  soul,  with  all  his  sins 
unpurged,  upon  his  conscience." 

"  Why,  this  is  veriest  madness.  Think  you  what  will  follow 
your  .submission  and  defeat?  He  will  pursue  his  conspiracy. 
Others  will  do  what  you  have  refused.  He  will  drag  other 
ami  bitter  spirits  into  his  scheme.  He  will  bring  murder  into 
our  palaces,  and  desolation  into  our  cities.  Know  \  ou  not  the 
man  as  I  know  him  ?  Shall  he  be  suffered  to  escape,  when  the 
hand  of  (Jod  has  clearly  shown  you  that  his  purposes  are  to  be 
overthrown,  and  his  crime  to  be,  punished  through  your  agency." 

"  And  it  shall  be  so,  my  dear  lord.  It  is  not  my  purpose  to 
submit.  The  traitor  shall  be  met  in  battle." 

"  But  by  thyself?     Why  not  a  champion?      I  am  ready." 

"  (ireatly  indeed  do  I  thank  and  honor  thee,  my  lord;  but  it 
can  not  be." 

'•  Mcthinks  then-  is  some  touch  of  insanity  about  thee,  old 
man,  in  spite,  of  all  thy  wisdom.  Tlnm  canst  not  hope  to  con 
tend,  in  sooth,  against  this  powerful  warrior.  He  will  hurl  thee 


THK  <;n:i.   AND   ii KI:  3T3 

to   the   card,  with    the    first    thru>t  <>f  his  bemvj  lance;   or  smite 
fhee  down  tn  death  with  a  .-isi-Uj  Mow  of  battle  av 
•'  Hear   mi',  my  l..ri,  au.l    have    no    fear.      Tlmu    k- 

terrible  power.-,  vhich   I   poMen,  nor  should  ai,\-  k 

that  this  necessity  .-Minpels  me  t..  employ  them.      I   will  sla; 
•  n, -my  and  thi:ie.      He  ,-an  not  harm  me.      lie  will   perish  '. 

II  weapon  shall  be  twice  lilted  to  affront  m< 
•u  meanest  not  to  riuji].,y  soiv 

'•  I).-  a-ure.l,  my  lord,  I   sliall  use  a  carnal   a-vnt  only.      Th.j 
instrument   which   I  .shall  take  with  me    to    l-attle,  tlmu^i  OJ 
rihle  and  destructi\  c  power,  shall  he  as  fully  hle^sed  o{   J  lea  veil 
as  any  in  your  mortal  annorv." 

"  He  it  so  !      I  am  «rlail    that    thou  art   so  confident  •   and  yet 
let  me  entreat  th<-e  to  trust  thy  hattle  to  my  han<; 

'  N  lord,  no!      'I1.,   thee   there  would   he   danger  — 

lie.     I  thank  tlier  for  thy  goodness,  and  will  oame  th>-o 
in  my  j.ra;.  Vn  i      ii 

\\'r    need    not    pursue    their   dialogue,  which  was  -rivatlv  j.i  ,- 

bd,  and  included  much  other  matter  which  did  not  coi, 
the  ev.-nt  h.-inre  us.  When  the  Mohleni;>n  to.,k  hisdej.ar 
tlltl  ij-peared.  The  old  man  t««"k  her  in  his  emL 

and  while    the    tears   glistened    up,,n    his   snowy   beard,  he 
addre.ssei'  her  :  — 

"Hut    for   thee  — foi   th»>e,  chietly— da;;  the    beloved 

•iml  sainted  child  in  heaven,  I  had  sj.ared  myself  this  trial.    This 

>>ild    live    wert    thou    nnt    j»n-s,.jit.   maki; 
:'ul    that     I     sh..uld    still    prolong    to    the    | 
incut,  the  remnant  ofm;  Ww    I    to   j.eri.^h.  u!. 

th«.M  u,,ul!  he  the  .,,„[  ,|i(.  , 

'  '     Would    de>relid    UUoli    the     hlld,  and    it    Would 

rent    and    freshness.      T|1(.    w,,nn    would    fasten    upon    the 

.   \\ouhl  prey  upon 

J.ucilla.  I  mu-  j   i;ve  m  i 

I   must  shed  the  1  ; 
'hat  thou  may  eat  nut  bo  desolat. 


SOUTHWARD    110! 


CHAPTER    VI II. 

\Viiii.K  the  tears  of  the  two  wore  yet  mingling,  the  scene  uu- 
.it'rwent  A  change  corresponding  with  my  anxiety  for  the  (!••/ 
w; «'///.  A  vast  area  opened  lei'. re  me,  surrounded  hy  the  -eats 
and  scaffolding  as  if  for  a  tonrnay,  and  the  space  was  filling  la>t 
with  spectators.  1  will  not  attempt  to  describe  the  splendor  of 
the.  scene.  Lords  and  ladies,  in  their  most  gorgeous  attire,  oc 
cupied  the  high  places;  princes  were  conspicuous;  the  j« 
wen-  assembled  in  thousands.  At  the  sound  of  trumpets  the 
king  made  his  appearance.  A  grand  burst  of  niu-ic  announced 
that  he  was  on  his  throne.  Among  the  knights  and  n.ihles  by 
whom  lie  was  attended,  I  readily  distinguished  ••  the  favorite." 
He  was  in  armor,  hut  it  was  of  an  exceedingly  simple  pattern, 
and  seemed  designed  for  service  rather  than  display.  lie  looked 
grave  and  apprehensive,  and  his  eyes  were  frequently  turned 
upon  the  harriers,  as  if  in  anxious  waiting  for  the  champions. 

The  accused  was  the  first  to  appear.  He  was  soon  followed, 
however,  hy  the  accuser,  and  hoth  made  their  way  through  the 
crown  to  the  foot  of  the  throne.  As  the  old  man  approached, 
the  favorite  drew  nigh,  and  addressed  him  in  snhdued,  hut  earn 
est  accents. 

"  It  is  not  yet  too  late  !  Call  upon  me  as  thy  champion.  The 
king  dare  not  refuse  thee,  and  as  I  live,  I  will  avenge  mine  own 
and  thy  wrongs  together." 

"  It  can  not  be,  my  lord,"  was  the  reply,  with  a  sad  shake  of 
the  head.     "Besides,"   he  continued,   "1   have    no   wrongs   to 
avenge.     I  seek  for  safety  only.     It  is  only  as  my  life  is  pb 
equally  to  the  living  and  the  (lead,  that  I  care  to  strug.. 
and  to  save." 

The  face  of  the  favorite  was  clouded  with  chagrin.  He  led 
the  way  in  silence  to  the  foot  of  the  throne,  followed  hy  the 
venerable  man.  There,  tin-  latter  made,  oheisance,  and  encoun 
tered  the  ho.-tile  and  tierce  glance  of  his  enemy,  whom  he  r.  - 
garded  only  with  looks  ..f  sorrow  and  commiseration.  A  hreath- 
silence  pervaded  the  they  heheld  the 

white  locks,  the  Simple  majesty  of  bifl  face  and  air,  and  the  CO* 
tume    -singular  for  such  an  OCCAflfoil  —  uhich  he  v.oie.     This  did 


THK  875 

not  in  ai,-.  lifi«'r  t'nun  tliat   in  which   lie   had   always   ;  p- 

tbited  before.      It  C  ving  robe  of 

tlu»   purest  wl:  like,  l.ut    more   copi.-ns   tlian  the  j.ri- 

!,.      IT-  opponent,  in  con';  !.  shining  like  the  a\a. 

with  helmeted  head   and  gauntleted  hand,  afforded  to  the  spec 
tnt«>:  !;ig  diflerence   between   the    combatants 

The   wonder   increased   with    their   speculations.     The    sui| 

.ided  itM-lf  t«;   the   kiup:.  wh.i  j-r  -      i  liad  done  to 

I,  the   proper   armor   of  a  warrior  to   the   defenceless  man. 

•hi>he   steadily  refined.      The    khi£,  him>elf,  condescended 

."ii-trate. 

"This  :-   >ln-rr  ina'lnos,  old   man.     Wonldst  than  run  upon 
thv  death  with  uncovoiTd  head  and  hosom?" 

"Oh!  Bire,  1  fear  imt  death    and   feel   that    I   am  not  now  Ic 
would  I  still  implore  that  I  may  he   spared   this  trial, 
(hire  norfl  I  lay  niy>»df  at  the  foot  of  the   throne,  to  suppl; 
it-  ii 

••  K()I-  tli1  .  with  a  scornful  taunt. 

nd  for  tl.-  I  the  firm   reply,  "that  I  may 

pared  the  panjr  «'f  sending   thee    hefore    the    Eternal  Judge, 
with  all  thy  un.itoiied  crimes  upon  thy  head." 

The  vi. ice  and  words  of  the  venerable  speaker,  deep  Bl 
cnin,  thrilled,  with   a   sensihle    ellect,  throughout    the    as^emhly. 
"\Vln-nce    slmuld    he    derive    this   confidence  ?      From   heaven  or 
fi-.-m  hell.      The  conclusion  to  which  they  came,  more  than  > 

\    their   belief  in    his   re]  ami   his  words 

1  ^ilent  terror  among  the  crowd.     But  tli 

v,  and  panoply  of  steed,  if  not  in 

the  justice  of  hi.x  cause,  m...  ifully,  and  defie<l  the  doom 

which    was    threatene.l.      Some   of   his   friends,  however,  shared 

in  the  apprcl,'  P  the  vulu 

-Hi-    hath    no    visible    arm  -with    what 

\\ould    he    defend    himself .'      H-.w    know    we    that   he   hath    not 
.id   devices  of  hell,  with   which  he   secretly 

Uimsolft" 

••Thou    I  >,   as    I    .iear  '  —  re 

the  king. 

"  Tl.  hand,  .-ire  —  they  aie  : 

"  Thou  i  •  tic«  I  ' 


?7t  SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 

"  None,  sire,  as   I   stand    uncovered    in    flic    sight  of  ],, 
The  reverend  father  in  God,  to  whom   thou  didst  give  in  d 
this  inquiry,  is  here,  and  will  answer  to  your  majestv.     Hi-  hath 
heard  and  seen  the  secret  of  my  strength  — that  strength  which 
1  know  and  dec-hire  is  powerful  to  destroy  my  foe.     II.-   kn<.\\> 
it  to  be  a  secret  of  mortal  wisdom  only,  as  patiently  wrought  out 
by  human  art  and  labor,  as  were  the  sword  and  axe  of  him  who 
now  seeks  my  destruction.     I  have  warned  him  already  of   the 
fearful  power  which  they  impart.      I  would  still  have  him  live, 
unharmed  by  me." 

"Peace,  insolent!"  cried  the  accused.  "I  am  here,  your 
majesty,  to  fight,  not  to  prate! — to  chastise,  not  to  hearken  ti 
the  speeches  of  this  pagan  sorcerer.  Let  his  power  be  what  he 
esteems  it:  I  trust  to  my  good  sword  and  to  the  favor  of  the 
Mother  of  God  ;  and  I  doubt  not  of  this  good  steel,  which  hath 
been  crowned  with  a  threefold  conquest,  on  the  plains  of  the 
Saracen.  I  entreat  that  your  majesty  will  give  command  for 
the  combat." 

CHAPTER     IX. 

THK  eye  of  the  venerable  accuser,  regarded  the  face  of  the 
speaker  with  a  sad  and  touching  solemnity  ;  but  at  this  moment, 
the  little  girl  who  had  before  accompanied  him,  was  conducted 
into  the  foreground  by  the  archbishop.  She  bore  in  her  hand  a 
sarhaeane  —  seemingly  of  brass,  long  and  narrow  like  a  wand,  and 
crowned,  at  the  extremity,  by  a  small  globe  or  bulb  of  the  same 
material.  The  length  of  this  instrument  was  fully  six  feet  or 
more.  The  old  man  took  it  into  his  hands,  and  having  nnscre\\  e«j 
a  part  of  the  bulb  —  which  seemed  a  mere,  sheathing  of  brass,  he 
discovered  beneath  it  another  globe,  similar,  in  shape  and  .-,i/e, 
to  that  which  had  been  removed;  but  the  inner  bulb  was  man 
ufactured  of  glass,  of  a  whiteness  equally  crystalline  and  beauti 
ful.  He  then  took  from  beneath  his  lobes  a  little  box  of  cbi.nv 
which  he  unlocked,  and  from  which  he  produced  a  headpi- 
the  face  of  which,  instead  of  being  hard  steel  or  iron,  \\as  of  glass 
also,  very  thin,  and  quite  transparent,  through  \\hich  every 
muscle  and  motion  of  the  features  might  be  seen  with  the  great 
est  distinctness.  To  the  thoitghlle.^  \ulgar,  such  a  shii-ld 
Deemed  only  a  muck»-i:>  of  iluil  more  .-"lid  furniture  of  melol. 


Tin:  4H 

which,  in   tli"  -hnroMjjhly  encased  the  warrior  f.r  hattle. 

'Ilio    intercut,  ueral,    that    it'  hy 

"••ility,  tho  accUM-r  1  in  the  coml-at,  he  would  1  . 

dehted  solely  to  BOpernafaral  airency  for  his  jn.od  fortune.      ITi 
wand  of  01*88,  with  its   crystal  hulh  —  hi-  .  I/or  and  hel 

met —  were    only    regarded    as   designed    to   divert   the   scrutiny 
<V"in  the  more  seci  v  which  he,  employed. 

"  I   am  ready,"  said  the  accuser. 

"Hast    thou    prayed  I"    deniandeil    his   enemy,   in   a   mod 
fashion.      "  If  tlum  hast  not.  <rct  thee  to  thy  knees   (juickly. 

once   the   d.-vil  whom   thou  Verily,  Init   little  time 

is    h-ft    the- 

"1    ha-.  !.    and    confessed   to    the    II  •  }\     Father.      Do 

thou  likewise,  and  make  thy.-elf  hundde   and    contrite.      K 
Hire  —  for,  of  a  truth,  my  lord,  if  the   kini;   forhid   not  this  coin- 
hat,  thou  art  doomed  this  dav  to  <r,,  to  j,;  lament." 

The    heart  of  the  accuse. 1  was    hardened  within  him.      1. 
plied  with  a  hi.->  of  defiance    and    contempt  to   this   la-t  appeal  ; 
at  The  <ame  moment  he  declared  himself  in  rendiurv-  ftlso.     'I'hey 
iren    then  withdrawn    from   the    j.rex-nce   for  a  hrief  sj.acr,  and 
were  M-\erally  approaclied  hy  their  friends  nnd  attendants, 
arehhislu.j),  and  the  kin;:'-   favorite  went  aside  with  the   ac< 
and  \\  hen  the  latter  returnt'il  t;»  the  arena,  in  order  to  tin 
the  archhislmji  led  away  with  him  the  little  jjirl,  upon  whom,  ;it 
|)M.rtiu^r,  the  old  man  bestowed  man\   c  'd  1»\  i.ia- 

ars.     The  .-pectators  were  all  very  much  nio\c,i  1,\  jl,;s  teii- 
derne<s,  and  now  heiran  to  regard  him  M  OD6 

-do.mied    t<>  he  sejiarated  fur  e\cr,  and    hy  a  violent  death, 
IV'. m    the   ul.ject    of   his    affections.       And    \vh. 

.  at    length,  confronting    each    other — with    n 
—  awaiting  only  the  word   for  the  comhat  <i  I'tmt,, 

.:.-ir«le<l  th-  oldier-like  frame,  and   the  \ 

of   the    accused  —  helu-l-i    tl  hii-li    ho 

'  jdayi"!  hi>  \\cajiou  ;  — and  couti. 

;••  of  dire  |  \\:tr.  with   ti.. 

.  eiierahle    aeeu.-er.  —  li;il>ited    in    vestments    li: 
1  or  woman      -with    the   simple  unmeaning  waud  \\ 
.   and    the  frail    nia-k    of  hrittle    er\>tal    up(»u    hi>    : 
murmui  •  and   commiseration    prevail'  :  the 


878  SOUTHWARD    HO ! 

multitude.     But  this  murir.ur  was  soon  quieted  by  the  cry  of  the 
master  of  the  tournay  — 

"  Laissez  aller !" 

Then  followed  a  painful  silence. 

"  Now,  sorcerer,"  cried  the  knight,  raising  his  glittering  sword 
and   advancing  deliberately   and   with   the  confident  manner  of 
the  executioner.     The  aged  accuser  simply  presented  the  bul 
bous  extremity  of  his  wand,  and  before  the  accu>ed  cmiVd  smite, 
the  frail  glass   was   shivered   against   the  bars  of  his   ene: 
mouth-piece.     At  this  moment  the  knight  was  seen   sli^-h^l 
recoil;  but  it  was  for  a  moment  only,  in  the  next  instant  he  dart 
ed  forward,  and  with  a  fierce  cry,  seemed  about  to  strike.     The 
old  man,  in  the  meantime,  had  suffered  his  wand  to  fall  upon  the 
ground.     He  made  no  further  effort  —  offered  no  slmw  of  fear 
or  flight,  but  with  arms  folded,  seemed  in  resignation  t»;  await  th" 
death-stroke  of  his  enemy.     But  while  the  weapon  of  the  man 
of  war  was  in  air,  and  seemingly  about  to  descend,  he  wa< 
TO  pause,  while  his  form   suddenly  became  rigid.     A  quick   and 
awAil  shudder  seemed  to  pass  through  his  \\  hole  frame.     Thus, 
for  a  second,  he  stood  paralyzed,  and  then  a  thin,  mist-like  vapor, 
which  might  be  called  smoke,  was  seen  to  creep  out  from  various 
parts  of  his  frame,  followed  by  a  thin  but  oily  liquor,  that  now 
appeared  oozing  through  all  the  crevices  of  his  armor,      His  arm 
dropped   nervelessly  by  his  side  ;   the  sword   fell  from   the    inca 
pable,   grasp  of  his   ganntleted    hands,  and   in    an   inconceivable 
fraction  of  time,  he  himself,  with  all  his  bulk,  sunk  down  \u»"n 
the  earth  —  falling,  not   at   length,  prostrate,  either  backward  ->r 
forward,  but    in  a  heap,  even   upon    the   spot  which    he    had    oc 
cupied  when  standing;  and  as  if  every  bone  had  suddenly  been 
withdrawn  which   had   sustained    them,  the    several  parts  «f  his 
armor  became  detached,  and  rolled  away — his  helmet,  hi 
his  cuiras,  his  greaves,  his  gauntlets—  di.sclo.sing  beneath  a  daik. 
discolored  mass  —  a  mere  jellied  substance,  in  which    limits 
muscles  were  already  decomposed  and    resolved   into  something 
less  than    flesh.      Above   this   heap  might   be  .seen  a  Mill   bright 
and    shining   eye,  which,  for   a   single   .second,  seemed    to    retain 
consciousness  and  life,  as  if  the  soul  of  the    immortal    being   Lat1 
lingered   in   this  beautiful   and   perfect  orb,   reluctant    to   depart. 
Bui   in  si  moment   it,  too,  had   disappeared  —  all    the   brightness: 


Tin:  LTrTUBEi 

Hwallowed  up  1  in  the  little  cloud  of  vapor  which  now 

trembled,  heaving  up  from  tin-  ma»  which  hut  a  moment  he-fore 

•:.<ng,  a    burning,  an    exulting   spirit.      A    cold 

iield,  followed  hy  a  husky  and  convu! 
in  a  iln>\vning  multitude.     The  people  ga/ed  upmi  each 
.  and  upon   th-  heap  in  unspeakable   terror,      It 

annihilation  which  had  taken  place  before  them.     Dead  WM  the 

,'ral  mini;  'eniatinii 

But  the  reaction 

ins. 

41  Sei/e  14.011  tin-  :      Tear  him  in  p'h 

IV  ni  a  thousand  voices.      This  wa>  followed  hy  a  wild  ru>li,  like 
that  nt1  an  incomii  .  rwhelm  the  headland*. 

:>.,  the    crich   swelleti    into  a  very 

tempot,  and  tin-  mammoth   multitude  rolled  onward,  with  I 

,,11    i  ith   tiger   Jury,  ami   hands   outstretched, 

chit,  :iieir  victim.      Their   coursi-   had   hut 

the   old   man   calmly-:       i.      There   he   kept 

his   imiuovahlr   .station,  calm,  tirni,   suhdue.l,   but    Mately.      i 

will  he  avert  his  latf     -  h"W  >!ay  this  ocean  of  >ouls,  re>'.lute  to 

.\\helm  him  !     I  tremhled —  ',  ,  with  douht  and  appre- 

i  ;   tied  the  further  contemjilation  of  Imrmrs 

which  I  could   no    h>n_.  I,  \>y  the  very   inten>ity 

i.ft:  i  which  my  imagination   had  conceived   in  the  suh- 

puint  heyond  which  the.  mortal  nature  can  not 

i  that  point,  and  was  relieved.     I  auaken- 

,-.id   Parted    into    !'.  •  «-nid  with 

clannnv  dews,  my  hair   upright  and  \vi-t,  my  whole  iVame  . 

.-.  ith  the  tcrro|->  which  \\en-  due  wholly  to  the  imagination. 

It  would  he  «  t  fbi  Mich  a  dream,  as 

mental  facuK 

:  the  thought  nr\.-r  >leeps.     Any  specula- 

\  to  the  transition  periods  in    1  •  -id  i 

•    re:|uisih-  i.      From  of  the    p 

pin  ..lioml  to  •  h  fol- 

the  hirth  of  art   .u  I    :    'H  natural  enor.gh  ; 

/.nation  mi-ht  well  'It-light  it.-clf  hy  putting  them  in 

.the! 
disci) 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

TI1K    H!I,!or>    ORATOR    KSSAYKD 

"A  <;ooi>  deal  has  been  said  in  respect  to  the  monotony  m 
'he  prospect  while  passing:  thmujrh  the  North-Carolina  country. 
In  '>•  such  influences  us  are  derived  from  the  moral 

world,  and  hy  which  places  are  lighted  up  by  a  hrillianoy  not 
their  own,  tlie  same  tiling  may  be  said  of  most  of  the  ordinary 
and  railway  mut»>-  everywhere  in  our  country.  Roads 
art-  usually  drawn  through  the  most  accessible  regions.  The 
lands  commonly  surrendered  tor  this  purpose  are  irenerally  the. 
most  inferior,  and  the  man  of  taste  rarely  establishes  a  tine  man 
sion  upon  the,  common  highway.  In  the  South,  this  is  particu 
larly  the  cast'.  The  liner  dwellings  of  the.  planter  are  to  he, 
approached  through  Ionic  and  sinuous  avenues,  that  open  only  a 

•::  arch  upon  the  roadside,  and    show  yon   nothing   to  convey 
any   tolrralde    idea  of  the  beauty,  taste    and   comfort  which   aro 
buried   in   noble,  woods   away  from  vnlirar  curiosity.      The   land- 
•,  in  the  eye  of  the  hurryinjr  traveller,  needs  to  possess  hut 
a  sinirle.  (dement — variety.      Let  it.  he  broken  into  peat  inequal 
ities —  steep    rocks,   and    dee])    dells    and    valleys,   ovcrhanirinir 
precipices,  and   thundering  waterfalls— and  the  voyager,  who  is 
only  the  pendant  to  a  locomotive  for  the.  nonce,  is  quite  satisfied. 
Beauty  of  detail  is,  of  course,  quite,    imperceptible  to   his  vi 
In  the  old   countries  of  Europe,  the,  site   is   illustrated   by  to 
and  temple,  picturesque  ruin  and  votive  tablet.      The    ham!1 
which    you    carry  distinguishes    the    ^:<>t    with    some    stranir- 
startling    history.      In    our   world    of    \\oixU,  we.    lark    these    ad- 
'•uiicts.      If   we,   had    the    handbook,   we    should    doubtlessly  dis- 

•r  much  to  iiten-M  us  in  the  very  BCenefl  by  which  we  hurry 
with  contempt.  Dull  and  uninterestini:  as  the  railroad  route 
appears  tliroii-i:  North  and  South  Carolina,  were  you  familiar 
with  the  facts  in  each  locality  —  could  you  c<>uple  each  with  it9 


;.ES. 


<>r  tradition       the    fancy  Wi-nM    In  tuntlj 
and    the  iniinl  would   n«>!  only  tak-  a  lively  inti-n-st  in  ' 
through  which    you    pass,  hut  would,  hy  a  naturally-as.-imilativL 
; 

"What  a  pity  that  handh.'oks  lor  the  Smith 

'..i  tic  auth' 

••  They  will    he  fiirnM  douht,  when    the    tide  of   travel 

:M  this  direction,  and  vi  .;i  will  then  he  surprised  •'. 

\  Inch    >hall    !  lie  wh< 

mou  .  .  hich 

lie  in  \\..  :it    him,  hidden   from   sijrht   ->n!y  hy  ; 

siile  umbrage.     Wnh  rahle  knowledge  of  the  hi- 

of  the  ri.untry  in    all    the>e    state-,  I    a:n  ahle  to  ident:: 
i.f   i:  ind   I    !i:id.  .,  tep,  iii    my    r"ur>«' 

it  which  MTU!  so.  harren  to  the  .stranger,  fruit 
ful    intcre>ts  and  moving  inihu-nces,  which   (>x 
memory    and    the    imagination  —  the    imagination    thr 
memory.      Ti  !v    a    mile    in    the 

rolina,  whicdi    1  thus  find 

an-!    p«-rson<,  Ic^rnds    and    anecdotes,    wliicli 
lie    the    .  the  lialdot    tiarts,  each  with    a    ln-tittin^ 

moral.      To  him  who  can  recall   the>e  event.-,  and    tra«iitions.  the 

ted  with  a  soft  ami    rosy  li^ht  —  the   .»•;• 

-    jiut    on    •  \\hii-h    Mildime    them  to  the  thouirht.  and 

the    -lo'.inv   •.  pine  and    swamp    foiv.-t    conimend    t' 

which    lie    much,    det-jter   than    any  which 
WO  can    reacli  tin*  :iiedium  of  the  external 

••    in    all    the  wild    states   of   the  ,S<m:: 
him    who    i^   of  'the    iiidnnr   horn.1       There    will    he   a   thm; 

.ixation,  early   adventure,    peculi 
•he  I'-n^r  :  :         •    :  ;.    and  tradition.  • 

.'  the  i-'.loni-ts  —  which,  if  known  {>• 
,ld    make   him  forgetful  of  the  monotonous   featui. 

"  It   '.  '   pity  that  f<>r  the-e  we    have    n-. 

no  nn.numents  ah.ii«r  the  u  <  )ld  M-MI  ho\v 

N  here    the    stone    lies    half    huried.    ami,  with    his 
deepen    all    it  -.      Some   of   tl 

-  ...11    ha\e    rare   chi  printing  up,  who   shall 


382  SOUTHWARD    HO  1 

reveal  to  our  successors  these  things  —  the>e  »l>jr  11  of 

mind  as  of  sight  —  which  we  hourly  hurry  l>y  unseeing." 

"  Of  this  I  have  no  sort  of  question.     The  de\ vinpiKent  is  in 
progress.     The  mines  of   the   South    have,   been   struck.     The 
vein  is  revealed.     The  quarry  is  discovered,  and  in  due  season 
it  will   be  worked.     The  very  impatience    with    which  we    com- 
plain  that  the  thing  is  not   done,  is    in   some    decree  a  guai. 
for  the  performance.     AVe   must  wait   upon    Providence. 
great  error  of  our  people,  as   a  whole,  is   that  they  liv«- 
and   endeavor  at  too  much.      If  suffered  to   go   ahead,  acc<»rdiu- 
to  the  motive  impulse  in  tlieir  veins,  our  posterity  would   have 
neither  necessity  nor  field  for  achievement.     I   am   for  leaving 
something  to  be  done  by  our  children.     To  him  who  remembers 
the   South — North   Carolina,  for  example  —  but  twenty,   nay, 
ten   years   ago,  her  social    aixd    mental   progress  is   absolutely 
wonderful." 

"  Hear  that,  young  Turpentine,  and  be  consoled  at  all  my 
flings  at  the  old  North  state." 

"  Ah,  he  knows  it  better  than  either  you  or  me." 

"  But,  without  looking  to  the  social  progress  of  North  Caro 
lina,  and  regarding  her  as  a  region  only  for  the  exploration  of 
the  picturesque  and  adventure-seeking  traveller — the  artist,  the 
man  of  taste,  the  lover  of  fine  manly  sports, — the  good  old 
North  state  is  one  of  the  most  attractive  in  all  tin-  confederacy. 
Her  vast  ranges  of  mountain  render  her  especially  attracti\e  to 
all  these  classes.'* 

"  Yet,  how  little  promise  of1  this  is  there  along  the  Atlantic 
shore !" 

"Even  here,  to  the  painter  of  detail,  to  the  contemplative  and 
musing  taste  and  nature,  there  are  thousands  of  ic< 
interest  and  beauty.     To  find  these,  however,  you  need  tin 
that  see.s  ;   and  the  man  whose  eyes  ha\e  been  properly  couched 
by  art  may  spend  months  and   years  ahm^   the  Allan; 
and   discover  new  provinces  of  beauty  with   the  ramble  of  . 

succeeding  day.    Nature,  in  heir  arrangement  of  tl  y  ul 

the  South,  differing  from  the  rule  of  the  aiti>t.  has  thrown  her 
most  imposing  forms  and  a-pects  into  the  background.  Her 
mountains  and  majestic  ;dtar-p!  '  '""g 

the  sea  ;    and  the    superlici  .1    traveller   is    prepared    to  doubt  tho 


existence  of  anv  such   throughout    ..ur  ! .;..  i        I  !"'ii  absence   •>». 

fdt,    If    meil    V, 

Iwajl  m  taken  by  the  bald  OOtli 

ply    salient    and    ext    rnally    imp.»in.Lr.      There    i§ 
inueii   in   tlie  -'  which. 

lelioacj  and  nice  raw  I 

v-    much    attract    tlie    n  &€    arti>t.      ()i:c  of 

/ion,  as  distinguished  from  the  D  . 

the   mum  .utiful    i.-l- 

_uard   our  Chores  and   cities  from  tlie  wave.      \i 
tbeS€  islets,  or   aiiiun^  them,  tin-;. 

t.»  a  moral  instinct,  tlie  BZ6IC»e  "f  which  puts  a  tli.msan.l  p-nial 
fancies   into  activity.      They  rise   up   sinhlenly  around   you,  liko 

a   out  the  M-a  ;    fairy  al'odes  at  le;.st  ;    soinetin: 

in    slmili,   aii-1    fine,    and    tree,   to    the    very    lips   of   ocean;    and 

.ndy  jilain,  ^litterin^  with  myriads  of  dia- 

;    -j.ark>    uarlanded   with    myriads   of    f.i  ells,  and 

for    ,-.11    the    world.  —  particularly    when    seen    l>y    the 

:  li-rht — to  have  heen  devised  and  chosen  as  favorite  j.l 

for  the  -sports  "f  Oheroii  and  Titania,  i»f   Puck  and   Little  .John, 

the   i  line  ami   the   tricksy  Anatilla.      Sonthwai 

YOU  p>,  thev  sj.read    away,  diamonds   or  emeralds,  till  they  con- 

duct    Y..II  t«.  I  v.aters  ..f   the   IfissMppL       They   -row  iu 

in  heauty  as  y«»n  advance  northwardly.      Hut  they 

still    constitute  a  remarkalde  feature  of  our  tt'iole  coa>t  ;    and  to 

him   who   spread-   sail   anioii^    them   at    moonlight,  cs|»e..-i.illy    in 

the  •  hwardly  points,  they  compel  tlie  thought  of  all  the 

beinf  hy  the  old  system  of  pneamatology. 

('ape   Hattera>    nii^ht   well    make  it  to    hesii; 
:   mischief,  upheaved  from  the  sea,  by  races  of  iin^entlei 
an  such  a>  harhoi  in  those   little   sand-dunes  which   lie 
•  lil'mirly  in  the  moonlight,  with  the  sea  moving  1-etween  • 
;eh  placid  rnrn-iits.      A'    Hatfera-.  we  may  supposes,  the  ma- 
;he    trrini    Brownies,  the    >av;t^e  Kol...hl>  inhahit  — 
den  that  lie  waiting,  in  malignant   watch  f-r  the  u. 

is   bark  —  shlv   .slipping    l.eneath    the  \\  a  .  _•    without 

noise    upon    the    pruw    "f    \\  •:i\t[    drawing    her    into   tlio 

inKidiou-    cnrrei.i-,  and    upon    tl.-  rf  the  treachci 

The  l'aiic\    liiat  pe  »ph  -  k    .w  VCS 


384  SOUTHWARD    HO! 

eels  with  the  'good  people,'  may  with  equal  propriety  refei 
the  dangerous  capes  and  headlands  to  such  hostile  tribes  of 
demons  as  haunt  the  wilds  of  Scotland,  the  Harz  mountains  and 
Black  forests  of  the  German,  and  the  stormy  shores  of  tlio 
Scandinavian," 

"  Not  an  unreasonable  notion.  But  was  not  Ilatterask  the, 
old  Indian  name  of  the  cape  and  the  sea  about  it,  as  given  by 
the  ancient  chroniclers?" 

"  Yes  :  they  varied,  however  ;  sounds  imperfectly  caught  from 
the  Iii'-ian  tongue  were  imperfectly  rendered  in  the  various 
tongues  of  Dutchman,  Spaniard,  Frenchman,  and 


We  must  content  ourselves  with  making  them  euphonious,  and 
leave,  their  absolute  propriety  in  doubt." 

11  And  a  pretty  sort  of  euphony  we  should  have  of  it,  if  we 
leave  the  matter  to  American  discretion." 

"  This  need  occasion  no  concern.  The  poets  settle  this  for 
succeeding  time,  when  our  generations  have  no  longer  the 
power  to  pervert  the  ears  of  the  future.  The  necessity  of 
e  compels  the  gradual  growth  of  harmony  in  everv  Ian 
guage.  The  oral  authority  lasts  no  longer  than  't  can  compel 
the  echo.  The  poet,  always  resisted  while  he  lives,  leaves  a 
voice  behind  him  that  survives  all  others.  Let  kim  make  hie 
record,  and  be  satisfied  to  leave  it  to  the  decision  of  posterity. 
There  is  no  speech  of  the  future  that  rises  in  conflict  with  his 
own." 

"  Are  the  historical  and  traditional  materiel  of  North  Carolina. 
of  attractive  character?" 

"  None  mure  so.  The  very  regions  of  country  which  are  so 
barren  in  the  eyes  of  the  stranger,  pursuing  the  railway  routes 
along  the  Atlantic  coast,  would  alone,  ail'ord  materials  lor  a 
thousand  works  of  fiction.  I  have  identified,  along  this  very 
route,  the  progress  of  more  than  one  curious  history.  Take 

'in  example  :  — 

"Our  first  serious  war  with  the  redmen  of  the  South,  broke 
out  in  171^.  The  ravages  of  the  old  North  State  took  up  flu- 
tomahawk  and  scalping  knife  in  that  year,  with  terrible,  eHe.-l. 
Numerous  tribes  wnv  ira^u.-d  together  lor  the.  extermination  oi 
the  whites  of  tin-  colony  of  New  Urine.  This  colony  wag  of 
Swiss,  from  the  Canton  of  1'x-rn.'  in  Switzerland,  and  (jerrnaue 


OF  THK   .  ,W> 

-f  the  Palatinate.     'I'!:.  \    ericn  under  the  pai 

!'\-  tin-  I 

:  I  :h    I.ouis   Mitchell 

..:,t  of  ten  thousand 

'and  on   either   of  tin-  '  p,  «n 

their  tributary  branches,  ai  tin-  ten  pounds  stcrlin_ 

and    a    ijuitrent    nf   live    shillings.       The 

nninlicr    of  (Jerma  known  ;    hnt    the    Su  i-s    were    I;; 

Hundred.      They  readied  the  continence  of  t lie  Nrn-:-  and  'I 
in   !>ecember,   1710,  and  laid  off  the  limits  of  the   colony  in  that 

neigh 

i'iie  conditions   upon  which    these    people  came  to  Anieric;i, 

'•.irairin'j;.     Bach  of  them  received,  in  ]•'. 

land,  an  outfit  in  clothe<  and    money,  of  from  five  to  ten  pounds 
an  1  two  hundred    and  fifty  afres  were  allotted  to  each 
family,  which  was  to  1  .  ••..•mj»t  from  rent  or  taxatr   -j. 

.d  of  that  time,  they  \\eic  t"  pay  at  tlu^  rate  of  lialf  j>r  : 
r  >lin;i   currency. —  'I'hey   were   credited   one  year  with 
with  the   niatrricl  for  a  certain  farm- 
'1'his   included    cows   ainl    cal\  and 

56C.      Tools  and    implements  for   clearing   land    and 
•    furnished  without    any  cli;irjr»'  hy  the  p: 
•  r  people.  dri\t-n  from  their  nativi-  ahodcs,  tl.r  j  r<M 
r,'c;  fiiou^h  ;    and    the    treatment  which    I 

liheral.      Indeed,  the  rosi.ny  vei  \ 

to  l>nt  on  ;he  :  'is  appearance  —  was  flourishing 

•ly  in  ninnhi-rs  and  allluence.     Hnt  tli«- 

_an  to   lonk   on    the  whites  with  jeal 
.    it    proliahly    was   not.      In    \M-\> 

which    they  hehcld    for   the  first    time,  and  which  were 
iudirt'eiently  -uardc/i. 

:     \~,  11.  certain    trihes   agreed    to  combine    their 
force>  for  the  pin;  re  ami    plunder.      The  'i 

.  to  cut  the  throats  of  tl..  -:p'-n  the  Roanoke, 

and  hetween  that  riv«-r  and   Tamlico,  otlu •.•.-.'       T 

0    the    same    i.enevolrnl 

office  for  the  l«ttl<  R(  use   .-ni.i   Tr<-!it.     The  | 

tarn 

-f  Hatli. 


186  SOUTHWARD  no! 

"  The  work  was  done  with  lit!1  ition  ,-i(  tL 

period.      But  a  few  days  before   the   Massacre,  the   Indians  suc- 
ed  in   taking  captive   the   l\-ir»n   IV  < Iraftenreidt   and  J  dm 
Law-,.;!,  the   surveyor-general   of  the    province,  whose    hook   of 
travels,  a  highly-interesting  narrative  constitute.-  one  <>f  tin-  - 
of  our  Indian   author!:'.  S.-nth,  and  should   be  in  e\ 

American  library. 

"These  distinguished   persons,  totally  unsuspicious  of  dan. 
\ven  ,    in  an  exploring  expedition  up  the  \eu>e.     Tlieii 

1  was  a  mere  dttg-nut,  a  cypr.  of  native  manufacture  : 

and  they  were  accompanied  only  hy  a  negro,  who  paddled  the 
canoe,  right  and  left.  They  landed  at  evening  with  the  view 
of  encamping,  when  they  were  suddenly  surrounded  hy  more  than 

Indians.     They  were  m-ule  prisoners  and   marched  ofl 
a  village  some  distance  up  the  river — a  march  that  occupied  the 
whole  night.     Here  the  tribe  and  their  neighbors  met  in  solemn 
consultation   on   the  fate  of  their  prisoners.     The   hamn  was  an 
intruder,  but   Lawson  was  an   hn-ttdcr.     As  it  was  after  his 
vcys  that  they  found  their  lands  appropriated,  they  assumed  him 
to  he  the  source  of  the  e\il  of  which  they  complained.      Both  the 
t-apt'  >•   preliminary  beating,  the  bettt-r  to 

prepare  them  for  what  was  to  follow.     They  were  then  deliber 
ately  -loomed  to  the  (ire  torture,  carried  to  the  field  of  ucrii 
kep*  there  in  durance  vile,  and  in  the  most  gloomy  Apprehensioilfl 
i  day  and    night,   when    the   number  of  the   savage.-   having 
greatly  increased  to  behold  the  spectacle,  the  preparations  were 
jmmediately  begun  for  carrying  the  terrible  judgment  hit)  offeet. 
The    org'u's    and    phrensied    brutalities   of   the    Indians   ma; 
imagined.      The   hour   for   execution    came.      The   parties    were 
bound  to  the  :,take  ;   but   at   this  moment  the   baron  pleaded  his 
nobility,  appealing  to  the  chiefs  for  protection,  for  that  he  too 

,i  chief. 

"  Strange  to  say,  the  appeal  was  entertained.     They  concluded 
to  spare   his   life  :    but    no    entreaty  could    save  Lawson  and  the 

:o.      They  were  subjected    to   the    firry  ordeal,  and    peri- 
by  a  terrible  and  lingering  death,  protracted  to  their  ntiin»t  c;ipa 
tity  to  endure,  with  all  the  horrid  ingemii'  je.ut.     Then 

>llowed    the    general     massacre,     which     spread    consternation 


t    the    province.       More    than    "i;e    hundred    and    sixty 

'uitcheied  in 

:nlv,  the    romancer   could  work  up  such  a  history  with 
BOO,  in    tlior  awful  forr-'N.  with 

iWy, 

•  itt  till-in.      Did  the  afiair  end  lie 

••  I l..w  could  it  I      It  !  y  of  civili/ation  that  ir  must 

•UT.      At  rhe  !ii>t  r 

.ina,  then    in  litia, 

and  Appropriated  eighty  tlioiisaiul  dollars  to  the  relief  of  th 
ter  province.      Six  hundred  militiamen,  tinder  Col.  Barnwell,  im- 
niodiately  toi-k  the  field.      An  auxiliary  force  of  friendly  ImK 

kWO  humhed  and  eighteen  Cher'  •  .  nfy-nine 

'i'tv-    ne  Cata\vha>.  twciity-ci-ht  Yeinassros  —  all  C 
manded  hy  irliitc  oiVicer.s — \\crcjoined  to  the  force  under  Hani- 
well       the  Indians  lieinj;  chiefly  n.-ed  as  scouts  and  liunf 

Wild,  tangled,  gloomy.  wa>  the  wilderness  which  they  had  to 
traverse — a   region  utterly  nhahited    ley  hear   ami  jian- 

ther,   or   hy    trihes   of  men    unite  as    ferocious   and    untameahh-. 

.  olina  called  out  the  militia  of  North 
iina.  hnt  !y    in    vain.      Hi>    procdaination   was   little 

ed. 

liarnwell  Miitry,  in  spite  of  all  impediment 

with  the  Indian*,  who  were  in    «:reat  strength  upon  the, 
.  here  they  had    elected  :   a   point 

Udow  the  spot  win-re  the  railroad  CP 

liver.     The  hattle  that  followed  resulted  in  the  nttt  !'  the 

Indians,  and  the  annih'.  «»f  their  triln-s.      More  than 

three  hnndivd  of  the  redmen  were,  slain  —  we  ha\  .  it  of 

the  — and    one    hundred    were    made    pflSOOen. 

tie  had  taken  place  without  their  lie   Indians  having 

boldly    hecome    the    assail..  teller    in 

the  fort,  which,  a  ft  IT  n;uch  l"-s  and  ^reat  suiierinu.  tin 

;    \\hich    was    [  :heir 

coiKjuernr.      liarnwell  was  censured   for   heing   too   imi 
thv     vaii-jnished  ;    hut    what    i-'-uhl    he  exact    fn>in    the  savages  7 
id    nothing   fartlu-r    to    ,  n—  could 

.  their   li\  60.      Th'  thus 

cap.  JT00  may  btill  : 


888  SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 

ont  its  ruins.     Would  these  Lave  no  interest  in  the  eyes  of  &e 
traveller  who  is  familiar  with  the  history? 

"Now,  if  I  say  that  all  this  rcirion  is  marked  in  like  interest 
ing  manner,  by  wild,  savage,  bloody,  strange,  and  wonderful 
events,  you  will  be  no  longer  doubtful  of  the  attraction  with 
which  an  ordinary  handbook,  such  as  in  Europe  distin<rr: 
every  crumbling  fabric  or  fortress  with  a  human  interest,  would 
invest  this  seemingly  barren  country.  There  are  true  historic.-- 
throughout  all  these  old  states  of  the  south,  not  inferior  to  th<>>e 
of  Powhatan  and  Poeahontas,  and  that  remarkable  old  l?oman 
red  man  of  Virginia,  the  mighty  Opechaneanough.'' 

"  It  is  curious,"  said  Selina  Burroughs,  "  that  our  own  people 
arc  quite  as  ignorant  of  these  local  histories  as  anybody  else." 

The  ie»^ark  stirred  the  bile  in  the  bosom  of  our  Alabama  orator, 
who  was  never  more  ready  to  lift  the  tomahawk  than  when  op] 
tunity  offered   to  indulge  in  a  fling  at  the   Yankees,  and   JH.UI 
out  his  sarcasms  at  the  expense  of  those  of  the  South  -vho  were 
adverse  to  decisive  or  hostile  measures. 

"Nothing  curious  about  it,  Miss  Bui-roughs.  We  are  a  poor, 
mouthing,  meanspirited  people  after  all,  with  long  tongues  and  soft 
brains,  and  no  resolution.  Our  ignorance  in  respect  to  our  own 
history  and  own  iv.-ou:re<.  ;uid  our  own  rights,  is  sufficiently  con 
clusive  against  our  perpetually  vaunted  patriotism.  ( )ur  con-taut 
travel  at  the  North  among  a  people  who  are  for  ever  assailing 
us,  is  enough  to  shame  and  discredit  all  our  hoastii. 

"But  there  is  a  great  change  going  on  in  this  respect,  sir." 

"Yes,  indeed!      1  can  acknowledge  this,  though  the  acknowl 
edgment  does  not  a  whit  lessen  the  necessity  of  denouncing  the 
practice  which  is   still   too  much  continued.      We-   must    continue 
to  denounce  until  the  reform  is  complete.      It  is  a  grea; 
tion,  full  of  hope  and  promise,  that  it  is  at  last  be-un." 

Here  the  orator  dashed  oil'  into  an  e»ay.  M.mewhat  in  the 
vein  of  his  anniversary  oration,  which,  as  it  contains  sundry 
startling  things,  and  striking  sarcasms,  our  reporter  has  thought 
it  proper  to  preserve.  In  fact,  there  is  a  wholesome  word  I'm 
North  and  South,  in  the  very  energetic,  expression  of  this  man's 
feelings.  He  is  the  true  type  and  representative  of  a  large  pur- 
lion  of  the  southern  people,  ^peaking  the  bitterness  whirl:  • 
have  been  taught  lo  nourish,  their  jealous  resentments,  and  the 


THi  1ST. 

apirit  w  itli  \\liich  ti,<  './.»•  ujuiii  any  opportunity  of  ohtahiim 

and  injuries  of  which  they  com 

plain.  Let  North  and  South  consider,  and  he  wi>e  in  >easoii. 
'1  1  caprice  in  the  dotiny  of  nations  pieeipitates  cata>tro- 

\\hich  men  may  lament  hut  never  repair ;  and  one  of  the 

n  which  prevail  amon^  the  people  .,f 

tin-  North.  i.N  their  ohstinate  faith  in  the  ;  f  :he    I'nion 

It    i>  a  faith  airain>t  which  all   histories,  in   all    peiiods,  hear   the 
iiHvaryiiij;   testimony —  testimony  which  we   should   he  an- 
ihori/od   to  disn-.irard  and  reject,  only  \\hen  we  shall  he  aK 
as.-ure  mirselvi'>  that   wr  have  stronger   i-laims,  hy  rea.-on  of  our 

irtues,  njion    the    jirntei-tin^   care   of  God,  than   an 
the  i  lU-iatidiis  hy  which  wo  have  lieen  preceded.      But, 

to  th  :'  our  orat.,1     v.  hied),  thou-h  exteiujnire,  was   deliv 

an  oration  memorized  ;   not  a>  if  read  simph', 

hut  with  ioin  of  nm-  \\iio   di-idaims   pas>ionatidy,  in  hot 

1.1.M..1,  and  with  the  hold  in.petiiou>  action  «.f  a  fiery  soul,  in 
which  the  loiiL;-fi'ttrred  torrents  have  at  length  hroken  all  their 
harriers,  and  are  tlashin^  headlong,  in  foam  and  fury,  over  the 
still  re>i>tiiii:  l-nt  incapahle  rock. 

!     That  is  the  word  —  soft-heads! 
Hut  .  for  a  soft-head  !" 

••  \\Y  -hould  only  he  indulging  in  one  of  the  commonest  of  all 
•\  e  to  protect  that  then-  i>  no  Mich  tiling  as  unmixeil 

•  >\il  in  the  uorld;   and  all   the   philosophy  may  he  compa»ed  in 

*  nnt->hell,  uhich  chuckles  over  the  'ill  wind  that  hlows  nohody 

It  \\ill  >uiiice  it'  we  in>i.-t.  th;:t  our  hitter  is,  fre^uentiy, 
medicine  wlu«>e  hem-fit  is  in  the  future;  and  what 
tiie  mishap  of  the  day,  and  lament  accordi 

[  i-t-at    surprise,  the    paren*.    «»f  a    i  tint 

-  to  if.jf.  pu-a>;uit  and  jimiitahle  re.Milt.s.     Tohrin^our: 

.11   upni.  our  jtic.-eiit  toj  .ve  hut  to  remark,  that 

in,  which  d  the  cities  of  the  North  laM  Miminer, 

and  the  ah'.lition  mani;i,  —  which  is    destined    to    rout    them    out 
tin-in  uttniv  from  tin-   :  iith,  if  not  st  ;: 

—  ha\e  proved,  in  >oiue  decree,  hi^'h'.;  -noiO, 

•  vin^    influenco.    lor    the    people    of    tin-    South.       llow 

nan  .1  of  our  vrandering  iillers,  «.ur  ;.  A  ho  pori- 

Q    northern  u-giuus,  ill 


dOO  SOUTHWARD    HO! 

stead  of  finding  greater  good  in  a  profitable  n. vestment  of  thought 
and  curiosity  at  home  —  who  wander  away  in  mer^  listlessmva 
and  return  wearied  and  mwfittahed —  wcie  denied  their  usual 
inane  indulgences  hy  the  dread  of  pestilence.  And  how  many 
other  thousands,  capable  of  appreciating  the  charms  of  nature, 
and  the  delights  of  a  glorious  landscape,  were,  in  like  manner, 
compelled  to  forego  the  same  progress,  hy  the  patriotic  sentiment 
which  revolts  at  the  thought  of  spending  time  and  money  among  a 
people  whose  daily  labor  seems  to  be  addressed  to  the  neighborly 
.desire  of  defaming  our  character  and  destroying  our  institutions. 
"  The  result  of  these  hostile  influences  has  been  highly  favor 
able  to  the  development  of  the  resource  ;f  the  soil.  ~\Ve  have, 
in  the  South,  a  race  of  'soft-heads,' —  -»-ibe  that  corresponds 
admirably  with  the  '  dough-faces'  <>f  \Vnkee.-laml.  The.se.  are 
people  born  and  wedded  to  a  sort  of  p.-jvineial  servility  that 
find.-,  nothing  grateful  but  the  foreign.  They  prefer  ihe  .stranger 
to  the  native,  if  for  no  other  reason  than  because  they  are  re 
luctant  to  admit  the  existence  of  any  persons,  in  their  own  pre 
cincts,  who  might  come  in  conflict  with  their  own  importance. 
In  like  manner,  and  for  a  similar  reason,  they  refuse  to  give  faith 
to  their  own  possessions  of  .scenery  and  climate  Their  <!L 
requires  foreign  travel  for  its  proper  maintenance.  It  is  di.st- 
only,  in  their  eyrs,  that  can  possibly  'lend  enchantment  to  the 
view.'  They  are  unwilling  to  admit  the  charms  oi  . 
which  might  be  readily  explored  by  humbler  persons;  and  thev 
turn  up  then  lordly  noses  at  any  reference  to  the  claim 
mountain,  valley,  or  waterfall,  in  their  own  section,  if  fur  no  other 
•  n  than  ltecau.se  they  may  also  be  seen  by  vulgar  people. 
To  despise  the  native  and  domestic,  seems  to  them,  in  their  in 
flated  fol^v,  the  only  true  way  to  show  that  they  have  ta>tr 
finitely  superior  to  those,  of  the  common  herdlimrs. 

:  such  people,  ii  was  absolutely  necessary  that  they  should 
speed  abroad  in  summer.     The   habit   required   it,  and    the  sell- 

m,  even  if  the    tables   did    not.      It    is   true    that    they  P 
wearied  with  the  i  -us  routine.      Jt  is  true  that  they  wero 

tired  of  the    scenery  so  often  witnessed;    tired  of  the  flatm- 
northern  pa.slimes,  and  outr  -tantly  by  the  bad  manners, 

Hud    the    Unqualified    monstrosity    of   the    bores  whom    they  eoj/- 
teied,  fiom  tlu",  moment  that  they  got  beyond  the 


IN  -OCIETY.  S 

luiiig  of  . 

>' hk-h    th.v  i    which    thcv 

familiar  pert' 

•;i  M'ali/i 

bear  education.     A  thoiu  ihd  off 

•.M  which  tli.-j. 

ilimis  \\Iiicii    the;    j.   rin.lically  i, 

iiing   !ik.  ttrac- 

h.'.-li  they  uaink-n-.l  ;    1-ut.  i  :'  all, 

•    inilcxil.!.  me   «a-   t;; 

that  tin'  \v«. i-ld  mi-lit  mil  ^(,t  ,„,  w  U(.jl  as  |je. 
•tal  at  tin-  ojicniii--  «»t'  tl 

each 

1    mako    it   a   duty 

tlrit  -ulnnit  to 

>iuiniu'i. 

"  Hut  tin-  B habit.  It  m 

••iily  ciKlr.ral.lt'  in  the  ,;  ;'  thought 

ti'«l  uiibl-  -ions  to  th«,M-  who, 

J)crli;i|,>,  \\uuhl   mi  ltf  tj,e  w],0le. 

'    the    peril    «.f  utter   revolution    in    the    alxlomiual 
0  thought    ami    speculali..u 

lied  whirli.  hitluM-t..,  ha.l  taken  no  J,  _ula- 

ting    'lie    haM'  ..      When,  at 

louml    that     •  ,,,    ti,,, 

01. nth    \  ,  ure, 

—  ami    that    Char!.  «     . 

"i    the    ;  not  within  the  reaeh  . 

ihe 

the 

M    il;ihic!i 

tho 
torn   t'..r  th.-ir 

Dci.SS   U WAY  •    'til    tliili"--. 


592  SOUTHWARD  no! 

orty  was  to  undergo  general  disirihution  in  etjiial  shares.    Every 
man,  it  was  argued,  had   a   natural   right   to  a  farmstead,  and  a 
poultry -yard  ;  as  every  woman,  not  wholly   pa*t    bearing,  had   a 
right  to  a  husband.     The  old  Patroons  «>!'  Alhany  were  not  per- 
initted  to  rent,  but  must  sell  their  lands,  at   prices  pre.*cribe 
(he  buyer,  or  the  tenant.     Debtors  liquidated   their  bonds  ii. 
blood   of  their   creditors.     The   law  of  divorce   gave   everv  sort 
of  liberty  to  wife  and  husband.     The  wife,  if  she   did 
herself  01  the  extreme  privileges  accorded  to  her  by  thi.>  benev 
olent    enactment,  was,  at    all   events,  allowed    to   keep    her  own 
purse,  an'1   to  spend  her  money,  however  viciously,  without  ac 
counting  to  her  lord.     If  he  was  lord,  she  wa*   lady.      She  was 
not  simply  his   master,  but   her  own;   and  a  :-vecioiis   house 
they  made  of  it  between  them.     Churches  multiplied,  mo*tl 
the  very  moment  when  a  re*tle*s  and  powerful  party  —  avo\\ 
\iostile  to   all   religion  —  was   denouncing  and  striving  to  aboli.sl: 
k.he  Sabbath  its«]i,  as  immoral,  and  in  conflict  with  the  ; 
of  labor  and  the  citizen. 

"  In  this  universal  disorder  in  laws  and  morale  -this  confu*i.>n 
of  society,  worse  confounded  every  day  —  in  its  g< 
so  wonderfully  like  those  which,  in  France,  preceded,  and  piop- 
erly  paved  the  way  for,  a  purging  reign  el  terror  —  all  the  usual 
amenities  and  courtesies  were  fairly  at  an  end,  eve;:  in  th->sv 
places,  hotel*  and  haunts  of  summer  festivity,  in  which  decency 
and  policy,  if  not  charity  and  good-will  to  men,  rc.juin-s  that 
everything  should  be  foreborne,  of  manner  or  lemark.  that  might 
be  offensive  to  any  sensibilities.  But  the  cloud  and  blind. 
which  everywhere  overspread  hociety,  NV  as  a  madne--  too  sweep 
ing  to  forbear  any  subject,  in  which  envy,  malice,  conceit,  and 
a  peevi>h  discontent,  could  find  e.\erci*e  at  th>  of  one's 

neighbor.      In  destroying,  at  home,  the  securitit  B  of  n-ligioii.  the 
domestic  peace  of  families,  the  in\  i'dal/tlity  <>f  ;he  l.iw*.  the  guar 
antees  of  the  creditor  —  nay,  taking  hi*   life,  as  that  of  an  inso 
lent,  when  he  presumed  to  urge  his  bond  —  the*--  reckh-*-  incen 
diaries  (like  the  French,  exactly)  must  rarry  their  beautii'ul 
tern  to  th^  hearts  of  other  Communities.      The\   are  by  no  m- 
selii.-h.      Tlu-v  mus!   --hare    tSsi-ir  admir«ble  bleSSWga  with  -ahei'S 
—  nay,  force,  them,  ..inst  theii  to  partake  ofiheiv 

drunken    mi\tuie.>.       No    siliniion,    according! v     is    *acred    : 


HM\V    nil     DOGS    !-\I:K. 

their    iiiv:i>S.ui.      No    I  left    for   society,   unembarrassed   by 

i  in    all    |>' 

.11(1.      lint      >o     IllUcU  '      reform      alld 

._e    and    ann«.y,    they    -tudioudy    thr:i>t     uj>  >ii     \<>u,    at 

Mini,    the    picture    .if    the    mi>crablc     t'anai;  vanity 

prompted    him    to   lire  a   temple   only   that    he   miirht    lie   -ecu   in   its 

"Our    'Soft-heads,'    who    have    hem     bu-ily    en-aired,    for    the 

laM    thirty  year-,  in   feeding   the-e   fanatic-,   by  draining   the   profits 

from    thrir   «.\\  n    -oil.    aiv.    ai    Im-th.    be^innim;   to    i, •«•!    -omcwhat. 

uneomfortalile.     sittiiii:     eheck-l»y  jo\\  1,     at      SaraN»i.r:i.     and     other 

'ft.  and    hcarilm-    them-elvc-    drM-rilx-d   a-    n.li 

•,d    \\Ti-trln-x    by    tin-    very    pr.iplr    \\IIOM-     thirvi; 

sio|t.    tin-    in-irrn    with    whom    to    >windle    our    fon-tath«  is.       They 

i      that     their    pride    i-    not      wholly    unimpaired. 

\\hrn     they    hearken    miirtly    to    >u<  h    >av«»ry    (•iiiiiiiiuiiii-atio:  \ 

lurkitiLT   iloulii    whether    they    are    not    the    prr-mix    meant,    all    the 

while.  .   >tir   uneasily  within    them;    and   in   a   half-dn-wsy 

-tale,    between   do/in;:   and   thouirht.   they   a-k    them>el\e-   the   inie>- 

tion.   whether    it    W6K    not    much    more    to   tlu-ir  ere«lit    to    i 

•  rward,    neitlier    to    ta-te.    nor    touch,    nor   commune    with    a 

who.    in    mere    wantonm—    and    indolence,    are    making    >«> 

•  ith  all    the   >ecuritie>   of   th«  ir   country.  it>   reputation,  and  its 

:t>  ' 

•The   'Soli  liead,     it    i>  true,  i-  not  without  grateful  assur 
i^hbor-.  that    hi-   as-ailanl-    atf    \n  . 

fanatic-   win.  de-erve   n,,   x,,ri   of  consideration  ;    that.  tl. 
UlaiK  he.    :unl    Sueetheart.    bark    at    him     fur: 
and    his    brother    T"in.   and    hi-    I.MMM.     Harry,   all    lavrrn  k- 

in    the    bi  ^.litliern    tra\> 

are    tin     tine.    Murdy    bull  !m    \\ill    ke;-p    the    i 

at    a    proper   di 
him-elf       having    a-ked     the     cjMe-tion     fr:iir  le«-.]y    «.f 

i          :  •  : '  \\  hy  do   • 

be    80  All}     il"    th'\     continue    thi-    barking  ?     nay, 

wh\  .     when     th.-     !'  t.  kin  not      tlieM- 

H    theii    teeth    for  the  p:  :    their 

ItlaiK -h  3  eart    -w 

puppies    a-    the\  ;n     full     po--e-sii,n    ()f    the 


39-i  IIWAKD   no! 

roast  ".  The  fanatics  of  abolition  an-  -aid  to  be  few;  but  why  do 
they  shape  the  laws,  dictate  the  policy.  control  the  whole  action 

,'i     (hi-:    and    now 

naturally  be-ins  to  suspect  that  all  parties  either  think  cnlirely 
with  the  little  courage,  honesty,  or  proper 

sympathy    with    the    south,    ever   to    be    relied    upon    .  In 

fact,   our    'soft-head'   <i  i.er  iruiliy  or  other 

tin-   party  denounc-  veak   ami   worthless,  wields,    in    reality, 

the  entire  power,  and  represents  wholly_jhe  principles  and  fecl- 
iiiirs  of  the  north.  The  tiling  is  not  to  be  uain<a\vd.  Your 
merchant,  having  larsre  dealings  with  the  'soft-heads'  makes  little 
of  it  ;  your  hotel-keeper,  eniertaininir  larire  squadrons  of  ' 

for   a    consideration.'    every    sunn::  that 

it  is  nothing  but  the  bu//  of  a  bee  in  a  tar-barrel;  your  Yankee 
editor,  crossing  the  line  of  .Mason  and  Dixon  —  a  northern  man 
with  southern  principles;  who  teaches  the  'soft-head  southron.' 
from  'hard-head  northern  school  boi  >!•;-'  he  is  potent  in  the 
ver.-.iion  that  there  is  no  sort  of  danger- -  that  it  is  the  cry 
of  'wolf.'  only,  made  by  the  cunnin.ir  l»oys.  who  wish  to 
the  fun  of  the  false  chase;  and  that,  in  his  hands,  as  rrand  con 
servator  of  the  peace,  everything  that's  worth  savinir  is  in  a 
plat'  ity.  Your  thorotiL  :  party.  \\hi^ 

or    democrat,    who    hopes    for    a    secretaryship,   or   a    vice  pre^ident- 
shiji,    oi1  a    !'•• 'iviirn   mission  —  or  who,   with   commendalile   modesty, 
:;im^elf    to     a    postm&stenhip,     or     a    tide-waitership—  all 

Mie     in      to     the     assistance     of     oin  ,,;id      take 

monstrous    pains    to    I'eassure    them    and    re-tore    their   equanimity! 
Governed    by   self,    rather    than    by    naiion    or    section,    they    cry 
all --when    then-    is    no    peace!       \Yheii    there    can    not 
be    i  ion;:    as    the    south    is    in    the    minority,   and    BO    IOM^ 

the  spirit    ar.il   temper  of  the   north   are  so  n  iio-lile  to 

our   most    vital   and   most   cherished  institutions.      I'ntil    yoM    recon 
cile   this    inequality,    and   exorcise   this  evil    spirit,    that    i 
pant    through    the    Xorthern    6  .Hied    with    all 

fanatical  and  princi  lariani-m.   Coinmuni-m.    I-'oii- 

iii,    Wriirhtism.    Milli-rism.    Mormoiii-:  •  you    may    cry 

•,d    union    till    you    split    your  ,!    you    will    neither 

lire  union. 
"  Well,  our  this.      He  has  been 


M)    A     PKR-ON    or    SOFT    IIKART. 

'.    and    lazy  —  listless   and    indifferent —  vain,  nn  1    :m    i  ;' 

•:d  a  wanderer  ;   hut  lie  still  has  latent  sympathies  that 
id    him    <>f  h:  wot   Mi:. 

h  toll  him  that  ho  lias  a  property  which    is   threatened. 
mav  possihly  ho  destroyed.      He  nil  i  shakos  him 

self  accordingly.      II«'  begin*  to  betta  him<elf.      It  i-  hi-h  '' 

•i-  in   tho   conditio:.  •    with   the  •  A 

-•>ro  folding  of  tho  ann.s  t«»  slm:. 

•Tray,    Blanche,   and    Sweetheart,'   tlio    full-aoathed    abolition 
aro    at   his  hools,   and,  with    th.  ant   barking,   tlioy 

suftVr   ii"  >h'»-p.      'Soft-head'  soon  finds  that   tho\ 

•:od   t"    hark   simjily.     Thoy   aro   anxious   t«>   n>o   their 
teeth  upon  him  as  well  as  their  t  Mis  wife's  maid,  Sally, 

.  fur  a  condition  of  unoxamjded 

human  felicity,  which  i  1  her  in  the  neighborhood  of  tho 

Kh  i  and  his  man,  Charles,  walks  off  with   two  loving 

white  hr«:hfrs  \\h.»   SO..H   show  him   how  much  more  moral  it  is 
to  hecome  a  hnrjrlar  than   to   remain  a  slave.      '  Soft-hoad'  very 
1;    in   their  now   Utopia.      Sally  I  him 

from   the  T..ml:s  or  "Blackwell's  Islaiul,  and  Charley  from  S 

•    horrid   narrative  of  their  condition  ; 

their  follies,  their  crimes,  the  sufferings  and  aluises  they  have  un 
der^,  -no  at  the  hands  of  their  sympathizing  hrethren,  whoso  ob- 
1-oeii,  not  the  Lrood  of  tin4  wretched  slave,  hut  tho  injury 
and  anil-  'soft-head'   owner.      They   declare   thoir 

: .d  entreat  his  They  beg  that  ho  will  re 

•    them  from  prison,  and  make  them  once  m«»re  hunihly  happy 
in  the  condition  which  -d  to  their  intellec* 

::-hoad'  is  touched.     In  this  rep-inn  he 
his  cranium.     1  !••  •  :  tahtfl  their  •: 
iihh>  and 
in  ludpii;  will  the  ahnli- 

-ufier    this    triumph  ?      Will    th«'v    lei    the    pn 
:  at  the  last?     Oh  no!      They  dart  ! 

'    !'arley  and    Sally  I  6    more 

all   the  \\hilo 

the  i-ruel  fate  of  freedom,  for  which  :'  •  dly  unfit,  and 

J'-darinjj,  with    te  infinitely    they    { 

to  a   gen'  : an    hreth. 


396  SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 

blackguards.       Soft-Lead,'  himself,  barel\  by   the  skin 

of  his  teeth.  He  is  compelled  to  cast  off  the  indolence  which 
he  has  hitheito  fondly  conceived  to  form  a  part  of  his  dignity, 
and,  with  all  haste,  to  throw  the  Potomac  between  him  and  the 
pursuing  curs  of  abolition. 

"  Growling  over  the  popular  sentiment  at  the  North,  which 
thus  dogs  their  footsteps  and  disturbs  their  equanimity,  or  grum 
bling  at  the  sudden  invasion  of  cholera,  which  make*  them  trem 
ble  for  their  bowels,  it  is  probable  that  more  than  twenty  thou 
sand  Southrons  forebore,  last  summer,  their  usual  route  «>f  travel. 
Mason  and  Dixon's  line,  that  season,  constituted  the  iiJtlntii  </////<-, 
to  which  they  looked  with  shiverings  only.  Tims  •  barred  and 
banned,'  almost  hopeless  of  enjoyment,  but  compelled  to  seek 
for  it  where  they  were,  and  to  find  their  summer  routes  and 
reations  in  long-neglected  precincts,  it  was  perfectly  delightful 
to  behold  the  sudden  glory  which  possessed  them,  as  they 
opened  their  eyes,  for  the  first  time  in  their  lives,  upon  the 
charming  scenery,  the  pure  retreats,  the  sweet  quiet,  and  the 
surprising  resources  which  welcomed  them  —  at  home!  Why 
had  they  not  seen  these  things  before?  How  was  it  that 
such  glorious  mountain  ranges,  such  fertile  and  lovely  valleys, 
such  mighty  and  beautiful  cascades,  such  broad,  hard  and  ocean- 
girdled  beaches  and  islets,  had  been  so  completely  hidden  from 
their  eyes?  By  what  fatuity  was  it  that  they  had  been  so 
olinded,  to  the  waste  of  millions  of  expenditure,  in  the  ungrate 
ful  regions  in  which  they  had  so  long  been  satisfied  to  find  re 
treats,  which  afforded  them  so  little  of  pleaMire  or  content? 
Poor,  sneaking,  drivelling,  conceited,  slavish  provincialism  never 
received  such  a  lesson  of  unmixed  benefit  before;  and  patriot 
ism  never  a  happier  stimulus  and  motive  to  future  enjoyment  as 
well  as  independence. 

"  It  is  a  too  melancholy  truth,  and  one  that  we  would  fain  deny 
if  we  dared,  that,  in  sundry  essentials,  the  Southern  people  have 
long  stood  in  nearly  the  same  relation  to  the  Northern  it 
of  this  confederacy,  that  the  v  hole  of  the  colonies,  in  1775,  oc 
cupied  to  Great  Hritain.  A  people  wholly  devoted  to  grazing 
and  agri-culture  are  necessarily  wanting  in  large  marts,  whicb 
alone  give  the  natural  impulse  to  trade  and  m.-.n;  i'actures.  .1 
peoj  /<"i  i;i  N.'.//*A-  CUltll  C  •  ;  •"' 


.i.rrv  oi    AI:T  W)   BAF 

'/or  the  BQ  the  earth.      NOW,  the  activity  "f  the 

common  inti •!'  ;  Is   chiefly  upon  the  muirli    :in«l  inre 

attrition  of  th  \\'.iiiti]i-  in  this  attrition,  the  l.»M  minds 

sink   int.  'nally  heroines   sluggishness.      As   ;i   nat 

ural  Mce.  therefore,  of  the  exclusive  occupation  of  agri 

culture  in  the   South,  the  pr>fits  of  this  culture,  and  th> 

;!•  popuriti ..;;.  tin-  Southern  jM-nplc  left  it  to  the  Northern 
-iij>|dy  all  their  wants.      To  them  we  looked  fur  ! 
.•jiinion  —  and  they  thn<   siihstantially  ruled  ns,  through  tlio 
languor  which  we  owed    to  mir  wealth,  and    the  deficient  se:: 

naturally  iluc   to    the    intVequency  <>f  our   -tinu-le   in    the 

'  nations.      The  Tankers  furnished  all  our  man- 

nf.u  '  kind,  and    adroitly  contrived    to  make    it 

us   that  they  v/ere    really  our  henefactors,  at    the  '. 
when  \\u  'PP'11^   °ur  ^Hhstaiu-e,  de^radin^  our 

minds,  :'.nd  jrrowin^   rich  upon  our   raw  material,  and    liy  the  la- 
'.   nation  that  defers  thus  wholly  to  another 
n   emasculated,  and    finally  suhdued.      To  perfect,  or  « 
re,  th^    powers   of  any    people.it  requires    that    they   shall 
leave    DO  province  of  enterprise  or   industry   ne^h'cted,  which    is 
availaMe  to  their  lalior,  and  not  incomjiatihle  with  their  soil  and 
climate.      And  there  is  an  intimate  sympathy  between  the  l.ihors 
ind    their  higher  morals  and   more  amlutious   senti 
ment.      The  arts  are  all  so  far  kindred,  that  the  one  necessarily 
prepare^   the  way  for  the   other.      The   mechanic   arts  thriv 
w.-li  as  the  fine  ar  font  which    prove  friendly  to  the   lat- 

yenato  Cellini  waa  no  Iea0  excellent  mith 

and    cannoneer    tl  .«•    «.f   the    most    hold    and    admirald*- 

•colptOTS  of  his  age.     To  secure  ft  high  rank  in  11  as 

•    that  a  j.eoj.lc  should    d->  soiiu'tliin^r  more 
than  pro\:.le  a  raw  mati  rial.      It  is  required  of  them  to  pr> 

i,  \\hich  shall  work  the  material  up  into  forms  and 
;cs   equally    Nratitiful   and    valuahle.       This    duty    ! 

the    South  ;    ahandoneil    to   her   enemies  ;    and,  in 
th.-  ':  lin      '    thj     '  Bgled  and  s(df-ahandoiiment.  a  thousand  > 

magnitude.    The  worst  of  • 

•he  will,  the  wit,  the  wi 

nnity  of  the  peopl<  ^ield  our  maniifactnres ;  m.-i' 

it  the  most  dilv:(  n];  !  !.  ev»-n  when  our  own   : 


398  no! 

pie  achieve,  to  oU.un  for  then,  the  simp;.  ;;oiig 

them.-el\ --S.      W"  Mini  •  >iirselves  wholly  into    the   hands 

of  our  Yankee  brethren  —  most  hiving  kinsmen  that  they  are  — 
and   were   quite  content,  in   asserting  the.   rank  of  gmtlcnn 
forfeit   the   higher  rank  of  nun.     We  were   sunk  into  a  certain 
imbecility  —  read  from  their  bonks,  thought  from  their  stand. 
shrunk   from    and    submitted    to    their   criticism  —  and 
have  not  yet  quite  reached  that  point  —  Walker  still  holding  hi:-: 
ground    in    the    South  against   Webster),  almost  began    to  adopt 
their   brogue!      They  dictated   to  our  tastes  and  were   alone  al 
lowed   to  furnish   the  proper  regions  for  their  ex&CHCr.      A 
all,  theirs  was  all    the  scene'-y  ;   and  the  tour  to  Saratoga,  West 
Point,  Newport,    Niagara,  almost    every    B688OII,    was   a    s««rt    of 
pilgrimage,  ;\-  y  to  the  eternal  happiness  of  our  race  of 

'soft-heads,'  as  ever  was  that  made,  once  in  a  life,  to  Mecca,  by 
the  devout  worshipper  in  the  faith  of  Islam  ! 

"But,  owing  to  causes,  already  indicated,  the  change  ha- 
over  the  spirit  of  that  dream  which  constituted  IJG  much  the, 
life,  of  too  large  a  portion  of  our  wealthy  gentry;  and  the  la>t 
summer,  as  we  said  before,  left  then)  at  liberty  to  look  about 
their  own  homes,  and  appreciate  their  own  resources.  The  dis 
coveries  were  marvellous;  the  developments  as  surprising 
those  which  followed  the  friction  of  the  magic  lamp  in  the  hands 
of  Aladdin.  Encountered,  on  the  opposite  side  of  Mason  ;,nd 
Dixon's  Line,  by  the  loathsome  presence  of  Asiatic  cholera  and 
African  abolition,  they  averted  their  eyes  from  these  equally  "f- 
jiects,  and  found  a  prospect,  when  looking  backward 
upon  the  South,  at  once  calculated  to  relieve  their  annoy;;;. 
and  compensate  admirably  for  all  their  privations.  The  tide  of 
travel  was  fairly  turned  ;  and,  through  the  length  and  breadth 
of  the  land,  in  the  several  States  of  Virginia,  the  two  Carolinas, 
gia,  and  even  Florida,  nothing  was  to  be  seen  but  the 
chariots  and  the  horsemen,  the  barge  and  the  car,  bearing  to  new 
and  lately  discovered  retreats  of  health  and  freshness,  the  hnn- 
gering  wanderer-  after  pleasure  and  excitement.  For  such  an 
event,  tin-  country  Vffti  .-du:-  91  ."tally  unprepared.  A  few  ancient 
places  of  resort  excepted,  the  numerous  points  of  assemblage 
had  scarcely  ever  been  indicated  on  the  maps.  The  means  for 
iiing  them  were  rude  and  h.istilv  provided1.  The  roads 


and.    with    ili< 

to    run      . 

tO    ha!'it;t:: 
illl     rlapl>o;ird->  —  tj   . 

iii»   ctiiins, 

ciirht    l»y   twrlvi-— whi-iv  pride,    in   tin-   i 
if  not 
ital    a    man  tb    and    in.. 

the    Btrai  -  -        :i    Carolina, 

ih"  thou 

I     in    ru^ii'  Such    ca 

Ixirc    tin-    i! 

framefl 

of    tin.                                                  11    unplanrd    hcncln-.  an    intcnniiia- 

iniiltilu«:  d    allVrtioii- 
alcly  ! 

—  without    .  Mil    rain    by 

with    tin  :  d   all    man 

kind.        A     •  .'nation    t«»     in;,: 

..ii"D,   in    ucknowlc.lircincnt    «•{' 
tnpen- 

all   tin-  :..nl    a    pi. 

' 

' 

•triii.  n.  f     the 

r    anil 
n-lim-d   lad;> 

ind  the 


400 

quirt  dignity,  which  constitute  the  chief   attractions  of  the  former. 
Tin-  re-ult  has  romp:!  :hinir   more  than  was  anticipated  by 

veral  parties.  Seeking  only  to  \\a-te  a  summer  gratefully, 
to  find  health  ami  general  excitements. —  the  simple  object  of  the 
whole. --they  yet  found  more  precious  benefits  in  the  unwonted 
communion.  Prejudices  were  WOID  away  in  the  irratel'ul  attrition; 
new  lights  were  brought  to  liear  upon  the  social  a-p-  -cis  of  dif 
fering  regions;  thought  was  stimulated  to  fiv-h  researches;  and 
Uie  general  iv-ource-  of  the  country,  moral  as  well  physical,  under 
went  a  development,  as  grateful  and  encouraging  as  they  \\  ere  strange 
and  wonderful  to  all  the  parties. 

••The    dfoagremetU    of    these    cxtemporaneou-     pi  were 

not  limited  to  bad  road-  and  clumsy  or  cra/.y  vehicle-,  rude  dwell- 
:;iid  the  alienee  of  the  u-ual  comforts  upon  which  the 
irentry  of  the  low  country  of  the  South,  trained  in  Knulish 
schools,  are  apt  to  insist  with,  perhaps,  a  little  too  much  tenac 
ity.  AVe  are  compelled  to  make  one  admi^ion.  in  re-pect  to 
our  interior,  which  we  do  in  «rival  -lief  of  heart  and  much 
vexation  of  spirit.  Jf  the  .W^////,/*// /•  is  alm.ad,  the  C 
not!  Our  i-ntxim  is  not  well  ordered  in  tin-  |on-t  country.  Tin- 
' riit/xiolotjte  dc  (,'»/>('  has  never  there  been  made  a  text-book,  in 
the  schools  of  culinary  philosophy.  \Ve  doubt  if  a  single  «  »py 
of  this  u'rave  authority  can  be  found  in  all  the  mountain  ranges 
of  the  Apalachian.  They  have  the  irrace  and  the  irravy  ;  hut  these 
are  not  made  to  mingle  as  they  should.  The  art  which  \\eds 
the  vinegar  and  the  oil,  in  hap])i\-st  harmonic-,  BO  that  neither 
is  suffered  to  prevail  in  the  ta.-i<\  has  never,  in  tiii-  re-ion, 
commanded  that  careful  study,  or  indeed  consideration,  which 
their  union  properly  demands.  The  rank  of  the  eufa'ft&f  is 
not  properly  reco<riii/cd.  The  weight  and  importance  of  a  -rain 
of  salt  in  the  adjustment  (shall  we  -ay  Compro  a  -alade,  is, 

we  -rie\e  \»  say,  not  justly  understood  in  our  forest  watering  ; 
and,  skillful  enough  at  a  julep  or  a  sherry-cobh-r,  they  betray 
but  "prentice  han's  '  when  a  steak,  or  a  saner,  is  the  subject  of 
preparation.  Monsieur  <Jni/ot,  speakiriLT  in  a  properly  -  di^nilird 
laiiLMiaL-e  of  the  cojumon  sentiment  of  France,  in-i-t-  that  -he  is 
the  mo-t  p'-i'ff-t  repre-entati\e  of  the  civili/alion  of  Chri-ieiidom. 
Of  coui^e,  lie  ba-c-  In  i'  claims  to  this  position  entirely  on  the 
virtue-  of  her  cui-inc.  The  moral  of  the  nation  conies  from  the 


DREAMS    OF    m.V.VEK.  101 

Tl  "'-M'  which  sliM,il«l  -wait  on   appetite 

must  he  '  the    cktfd  OTt   nf  the 

phil  Ifl   well    as   tho    in.-ni    of  v  ;'  all   that 

I>hil  -  the  food  with  a  due  regard,  not  only 

!io    ireats    an«'  and    the 

••lit  to  tho  temperaments  of  the  consumers,  -my 

•nfess   that    we    have    hnt    little    in   our  va*f    interior.      Our 

.nountain    c«i..ks    thir.k    they    have    done    everything  when    thev 

murdered  a  fillet  »f  veal  or  a  hamich  nf  veni-  >,,.  —  -.inlden 

:hem    in    lard    or  huttor,   haked   (.r   hoiled    them    t«>   a   <-ondit;<>:! 

vhioli  admirahly  re^-mMes  tli.-»  pulpy  nia.sses  of  cott-.n  ra^,  when 

i    f"r    p.-.pcr    manufacturr,  —  and    '.\onder-    t->    BM   V-MI 

•  •  ^inirorly  of  a  dish  wliirh   he  himself  will  dev-ur  with  the 

Tr  of  a  rnmanche  !      Y   ;i  Iiave    <een    a  royal    side 

•  in  during  the  moniinjr,  and  laid  out  upon  the 

t.'ivoiii  si  -VOM   Iiave  get  your  heart  upon  the  dinm 

:  \  nn   i.f  the   relisli  with  whnh,  at   the 

Sf-Orleans,  01  the  I'ulaski.  in  Savannah,  <M 

CIiarlr>fnn    Hntd.  y,,u    have    di«-us>od    the    <«x»jnisitcly  dr- 

Ot  haunch,  done  to  a  turn  ;    the    rod    just  tin^inir  the  pr 

meat  just  offering  8QCB    ]>Ioaxant    re.-i^tance    to    the    knil 

L€  intricate    ill. res    still   closely  united,  though   shedding 

juices   with    t  <>f  tho    peach,  pressed   hetv. 

lips   in   the  very  hour  of  its  maturity;  —  or  you   see   a  fine 

•mutton'    brOU  '  !    flavor   ,,f  trie    hills;    and   you 

ine,  v.-itl.   tin-   eye   of  the   ejUCOre,  the    \"luminoMs  fat,  fold 

up-.n  fold,  lapj  i!i-  ;«.>olf  lovin-ly  ah<mt    the   Inins.      Le-.  or  loin, 

i     :'".      'T          '  .  •,,,,!}•      t)(      y,,,,,.      ;,„*',,.• 

•t'  noonday  discussi,.!).      You   lay    -o-.ix  df  out 
•:nd  naturally  p-cur  t<»   the    1. 
T  1    witk   t!  n,]    father,  \\1. 

•  M  a*  the  Churrli  ,.f  tl  n.l  at  hi- 

nl    hotel    in    th      Ku.>   d»-s    Huitro-..      You  •:    all    the 

my.   admiral  MO   ..f  them,  of  tho   virtue^ 

'U1(I  "  nd  father    hi:; 

g^fl   to    that    excel  ent    sclp.nl   <>!'  which   tl. 
^'^  I    so   manv   grateful    living   example-:.-     men  w! 

'      flu-  haiTon  ompiro  of  min.l  mendy. 
vho  hrii-..  .111  I   j:l,ilo^,pl,v  c.piallv  to  hear  upon  the 


id-J  nn\  Mil)  no  ! 

humble  and  too  frequently  mortified  flesh.     With  the,  spectacle 
of  the  veneiable  host,  presiding  ;':dly  and  so  amiably  — 

the  napkin  tucked  beneath  his  chin,  and  fulling  over  tlie  ampU 
domain  in  which  certain  \>}."  .  with  much  show  . 

h;>\v  found  the  mortal  abiding  place  of  the  sold--  ciate 

the  happy  action  with  which,  slightly  flourishing  the  bright 
before  lu-  smites,  he  then   parses  the    scimitar-like  edge  into 

.  round  before  him.  It  is  no  rude  or  hurried  act.  He  leek 
the  responsibility  of  the  dut}.  He  has  propel  ''  the  rela 

tions  of  the  parts.  He  knows  ju^t  where  to  in.1  innate  the  blade: 
and  the  mild  uignity  with  which  the  act  is  performed,  reminds 
you  of  what  you  have  seen  in  pictures,  or  read  in  books,  of  the 
sacrifices  of  the  high  priests  and  magi,  at  Grecian  or  Egyptian 
altars.  What  silenct  waits  upon  the  stroke!  and,  as  the  warm 
blood  gushes  forth,  and  the  rubied  edges  of  the  w  urn!  !i"  1  are 
before  your  eye*  «'\ery  bosom  feels  relieved  !  The  augur, 
been  a  fortunate  one,  and  'he  feast  begins  under  auspices  tha«: 
drive  all  doubts  of  what  to-morrow  may  bring  forth,  entirely 
from  the  thought. 

"  With  such  recollections  kindling  the  imagination,  our  extem 
pore  hotels  of  the  Apalachian  regions  will  doom  you  to  frequent 
disappointment.  You  see  yourself  surrounded  by  masses  that 
may  be  boiled  or  roasted  polypi  for  what  you  ki,ow.  But  wherc'p 
the  mutton  and  the  venison  ? 

"You  call  upon  the  landlord  —  a  gaunt-looking  tyke  of  the 
forest,  who  seems  better  fitted  to  huv.t  the  game  than  take  rhargc 
of  its  toilet.  He  is  serving  a  score  at  once;  with  one  hand  ! 

an. I  ba':on,  with   the  other  collards  und  cu'.-uinhc-rs.  into 
/C0nfiic.ti:  :  an.l  you  fall  back  speechless,  wi'h  the  Bidden 

dispersion  o?    a  thousand  fancies  of  delight,  as  lie   tells  you  that 
the  mutton,  or  the  veni.son,  which  has   been  th-  subject  of  your 
til  the  morning,  lies  before  you  in  the  ir.idi.tir.-nlshable 
figtressed    you  with  notions  of  the   polypu- 
me  other  unknown  monstrosities  of  the  d- 
But  the  subject  is  one  quite,   too  distressing  for  dilation 
We  ha\f  painful  memories,  and  must  forbear.      But,  we  solemn 
ly  say  to  our  Apalachian  landlord  :  — 

"•Brother,  this  thing   must   be  amended.      You  have  n- 
to  Pi-oi t  thus  with  the   hopes,  the  health,  the   happiness  of 


10KY. 


right,  in   this  11-  neigh- 

"!'  the  evil  \\liidi  ioing 

—  i:  .  nipathy  I'm-  thoM.  ..f  other  people  ?     Js  it  p  rid  A, 

:i('(>-  01'  1!:;  ranee,  which  thus 

Jers   \ou   reckless  of  -IP  to  humanity  and  society,  and 

•til  that  lino  philosophy  v.  Inch  the  umnan  epicure  found  essential 

llitiea  tin-  mere  brutish  ;. 
>i'  th<>    animal    eOODOmj  .'      V<-u    must    imjM.rt   and  t-.h; 

n»u>t    nj-iu-cciatc  ju>tly  the  innral,  Of  tin-    kit/ 

i:h  -lili-cncc.  in'^lit  and  innrnin.:,  the  ].i-.)iuuu.l 

:'  {1>'    i'I«:  •  ar  those 

••f  ianl.  tlmsc  cruel  ahu>rs  of  tin-  tlc.xh.  thoM-  lianl  hal. 
..thcr^iM-  tender;  tlmse  salt  an-!    Bavage  Boddenlng 

monntali 

led     and     thuM-    indi-vstihle    :  »f    ,h)U-l, 

;llt>r  in   t;  l.iscuit,  which   n. • 

;  pnssil.ly  assimilate  with  the  human 
We    have   often    thought.  >eein-   these    lu-avy    ji, 
I  ta!.!e<.  that,  it' they  couhl  only  cdnniand  a  roice,  they 
*-«.uM  j,rr],etiially  cry  «,ut  to  the  needy  and  devourin- 
(1"'    '  to  tO  Richard    the    Ilunchhack  - 

iieavy  on  thy  s..ul  to-morrow.'  " 

1Irlv  »«•  •  I'  Bf  orator  had  i  airly  talked  himself  our. 

i'l'akin;,',  the    artle^^ly-expressed 

il  -juiry.  ..j  Selina  Hucnui^hs. 

-,  my  ilear  little  creature,  you  d.»  not    mean  to 
you  have  heei.  .sleej.in^  all  the  wiiil 

lie;,.    W:i>    a    hll'^ll  ! 

:  nierely  v                            .  ,t  that  there  is  a  st 
e  .juarter.  and  if  you  are    in  voice,  sir, I  do 

1">  can  ':  tattoo  than  yo 

.  all  inv  life  !     Y.m  slvall 

:id,  ii.  trihute  ;f.  it  .shall  he  a  lovvgt, 

:h  !  thank  you  —  a  lov, 
"  A  !  ..f  (he  red  man." 

'  '  )h  !  that   \\  ill  l»e  cui  :  .;h." 

1  It  .si  all  U  H-  maliciou.  and  pat li.-tii-.  and  -ad  ami  Lmnoroui, 
• 


404  SOUTHWARD    Hoi 

And  the  group  composed  itself  around,  and  the  bilious 
*e*>  told  the  following  legend:  — 


LEGEND  OF  MISSOURI: 
OH,  THE  CAPTIVE  OF  THE  PAWNEE. 

A  token  of  the  spirit  land  — 
The  fleeting  ;.nft  of  fairy  hand: 
A  wither'd  leaf,  a  flower  whose  stem 
Once  broke,  we  iiken   unto  ih*-rn  ; 
Thus  fleet  and  fading,  ripe  «-re  noon, 
And  vanishing  like  midnight  moon; 
A  rainbow  gleam,  that  now  njij., 

And  melts,  fvrn  a«  \\r  L-a/f,  r<>  lean." 


INTRODUCTION. 

THERK  are  certain  races  \vli«>  ;ire  employed  evidently  as  the 
pioneers  for  a  superior  people  —  who  seem  to  have  no  mission 
of  performance,  —  <>nly  one  of  preparation,  —  and  who  simply 
keep  the  earlh,  a  sort  «.-f  rude  possession.  of  which  they  m.-.iio  »io 
use,  yeilding  it,  by  an  inevitable  necessity,  t<>  the  conquering 
pcnp!  .-n  as  they  appear.  Our  red  men  seem  to  have  be 

longed  to  tliis  category.  'I'lieir  modes  of  life  wore  inconsi- 
with  length  of  tenure  ;  and,  even  had  the  white  man  never  ap 
peared,  their  duration  must  have  still  been  short.  They  would 
have  preyed  np-on  one  another,  tribe  airainst  tribe,  in  compliance 
w.th  necosMtv,  until  all  were  destroyed;  —  and  there  is  nothing 
to  bo  deplored  in  this  spectacle!  Kither  they  had  DO  further 
-.  or  they  never,  of  themselves  developed  them  ;  and  a  penph» 
that  destroy  only,  and  never  create  or  build,  are  not  designed, 
anvwhi-ro.  to  cumber  flod's  earth  hm^  !  This  is  the  substantial 
condition  upon  which  all  human  securities  depend.  We  are  to 
Advance.  We  are  to  build,  create,  endow  ;  thus  showing  that 
we  are  made  in  the  likeness  of  the  (  Yeator.  Those  who  de 
only,  by  laws  of  strict  moral  justice,  must  perish,  without  having 
been  said  to  live  ! 

And  yet,  surveying  this  sji-'.^acle  ti.v..'  the  medi-un  -:f  the 
picturesque,  one  naturally  broods  with  sympathy  JVW  the  f;iti 
of  this  people.  There  is  a  -  .ilitary  -  randeur  in  their  fortune^ 


LOCI 

and   the   inte  i  ••   melancholy  which  they  exhibit,  which  compel" 

the   necessity  under  winch 

tlu>\  .    natural   eloquence,   their  pa>- 

sion.-r  •  nobleness  of  the;.  the 

suhtl-  the-e    l<.rhiil    that  we  «h»iiid    re. 

with  in  :  :  ai:<!  ire  watch  their  pro!. mired  battle  for 

tence  and    jilaee,  with  that  feeding  of  admiration  with  which 
we  behold   the  "  jr-vat  man   strn^ling  with  the  storms  of  fate.'' 
The  conflict    between    rival    races,  one    representing  the   hiir: 
civilization,  the  <>tluv  the   totally  opposite  nature  of  th 
is.-  a]<,  xijiiinte  interest  ;    and  not  an  acre  of  our  va-t 
fimi'.trv   hut    exhil  -    of  stru^le    l»etween    these    ril 
ivhii-h.  j»r.-p.-i-ly  delineated,  w-nild   ravish  from   the  canvass,  and 
dirill  all  pas-ions  frorr.  !  .     The  thousand    ;  m,  in 
ill    directions,    of   the    n-h.ite    pioneer;  —  the    thousand   trial-    of 
_rth.  and  hkill.  ^n<l   spirit,  lietv/een  him  and  tlie  red  hunter: 
—  make  of  th-                   the  country  one  vast  theatre,  scene  after 
scene,  swellir^r   the   irreat  event,  until  all                     the  jrrand  de 
nouement  whi'di  exhihits    the  dyin-  with 
•i"'i  striding  triumphantly  over  his  neck. 
iti.-n  wil     h'dp   us   in    p-mcess  of  time    to  !artr«'  elemen' 
i-oniaiKe  in  tl.«-  lurvey  ofthe               ts,  and  the  red  man  IB  destin- 
a  longe     ':le  in  art  than  he  ever  knew  in  reality. 

[lu<  place, 
In  ,i  ,  :  rti-n;:  In  como, 

.in-  Kc.ry  .if  tht-  nu-f, 
\\  ;  DM  :     ti\-'  ict-iiius  now  li«>§  dumb. 
\     - .    ;  Tradition  led, 

••il.-t  to  its  hod. 

And  wi  1!  r:irli  itnxio'.is  j-uth  oxjilore, 
Tin-  mighty  trod  in  day-  «.('  yon\ 
Thi«  i  •'.  tin-  mount,  th»>  d»-H, 

SJial!  •  •  : — 

Tl  !' 

•  .Htjpr.-mo, 
•n.iin. 

Ai.d  !.li.-i|M-  tin-  diamn  from  tho  (lr«»am." 

The  sket  :h  which  follows  mitrht  as  well  he  true  of  a  thousand 
hist  •  v.  hi.-ii    :"  It  IB  (  Q6  which    the 

pHi  ,•  .vith   all    the  j'  .vkich 

m\en'!on  mav   \\ta\c  11  -""JT  anM  st'-rA*.  tor 


10()  SOUTH      uRD    IK)! 

generations,  to  wliom  the  memory  of  tlic  red  man  will  be  nothing 
out  a  dream,  doubtful  in  all  its  changes,  and  casting  doubts  upo 
the  sober  history. 

CHAPTER    I. 

THE. Pawnees  and  the  Omaha*  wore  neighboring  but  1 
nations.     Their  Avars  were    perpetual,  and  this  was  due  to  theii 
propinquity.     It  was  the  necessity  of  their  nature  and  mod 
lilX     They  hunted  in  the  same  forest  ranges.     They  wen 
tending  claimants  for  the  same  land   and  game.     The  BUCtt 
of  the  one  in  the  chase,  were  so  many  wrongs  done  to  the  lights 
of  the  other;  and  every  buck  or  hear  that  fell  into  the  hands  of 
either  party,  was  a  positive  loss  of  property  to  the  other.      Thai 
they  should   hate,   and   fight,  whenever  they   met,  was  just  as 
certain  as   that   they  should    eat  of  the  venison  when  the  game 
was  taken.     Every  conflict  increased  the  mutual  hostility  of  the 
parties,      tfuccrsses  emboldened  the  repetition  of  assault  ;  defea. 
stimulated  the  desire  for  revenge.     Every  --alp  which  piovokea 
triumph  in  the  commeror,  demanded  a  bloody  revenge  at  the 
hands  of  the  vanquished  ;  and  thus  they  brooded  over  bloody  fan 
cies  when  they  did  not  meet,  and  met  only  to  realize  their  bloody 
dreams.     It  was  soon  evident  to  themselves,  if  it  was  not  knowh 
to   other   nations,  that   the  war   was   one   of  annihilation  -  that 
there  could  be  no  cessation  of  strife   between  them,  until  one  of 
be  parties  should  tear  the  last  scalp  from  the  brows  of  his  hate 
fill  enemy. 

Such  a  conviction,  pressing  equally  upon  the  minds  of  both 
eople,  forced  upon  them  the  exercise  of  all  their  arts,  their  sub- 
fity,  their  skill   in  circumventing  their  opponents,  their  savage 
nd  unsparing  ferocity  when  they  obtained  any  advantages.     I 
r-mpted   their  devotions,  also,  to   an  intensity,  which   rend, 
ooth    races    complete    subjects  of  the  most   terrible  superstitions. 
Their  priests  naturally  fed   these   superstitions,  until  war,  which 
.s   the    usual    passion  of  the    red    man,  became    their   fanaticism 
Wild,  mystical,  horrid,  were  their  midnight  orgie>-and  sacrifices; 
j;:id,  when  they  were  not  in  battle.  —  when  a  breathing  spell  from 
conflict  had  given  them  a  temporary  respite,  in  which  to  rebuild 
and  repair   their  burne*1    and    broken  1-d-es,  and  store  away  tl-6 
orovisions  which  were  to  s^rve  them  in  new  trials  of  strength,— 


N 

the, i   i  elision  elaimed  all  their  1  •  !  fe«l   then    smils  upon 

•e  which  it  th- 

The  red  i!  (>n€ 

•m«l    j,r  i:  -holly  th-  Dfl  6  :<ially  of 

::i.l  Omaha.      An-l  tlm-. 

transmit: 
hatred  did  001 

:   and   the    h«.y  «.f  tli.-    i  ami  him  of  th     ^^inalia,  for 

lnui'1  had  >till  ln-on  taught  thr  >ainc  i.;..;>i.»n  at  the 

;    and   hi-   ::'-htly  divam,  until    lu-  n.ulil  take  the  field 
man.  in  \\hicdi   lie   t'onnd    hi:  my 

? faring   his   reeking   sralp  from   his  f<.ndiead.      Ami  llf: 
ifl  the  i-Miiinion  history  of  all  these  Indian  trihc<.     T 

!  [u-tiially  in  c-oiiilict  with  th 

to   slan-'hter   or   he   hlain.      AVliat  wi»ndi-r   tin  uinity  on 

ihvir  faees,  the  national  -;loom  over  their  vill;,. 

8  in  the  mount  'ini:, 

i;i  the  cold  a-;  'hi-ir  '-'»n 

under   the    stolid,    : 

ith   them   every u1 

hi.-,  OBual  : 

his   ';  .Mid    lu-   nur.M-il   their  frenzies  on  f-de 

-;ailin^ 
pproAcUii  :  •-. 

field,  in  the  IA 

and    hunters.      '1'h,-    union   of   ' 

i;i"ll.v 
I    f,,r  botl 

. 

tiled 

ua. 

:it..    tin-    J.athli 

He  ha* 

rv  »-H)tln,ia   i:  .     The 


108  SOUTHWARD    HO! 

known  to  both  Pawnee  and  Oinalia.  But,  while  these  raged 
gainst  each  oilier,  they  took  little  heed  of  that  approaching 
jower  under  whirl,  both  were  to  succunih.  Its  coming  inspiret1 
10  fear,  while  the  hate  for  each  other  remained  undiminished. 

The  autumn  campaign  was  ahout  to  open,  and  the  Pawnees 
ind  the  Oinahas  were  soon  husy  in  their  prejwirations  for  it. 
Before  setting  out  upon  the  war-path,  many  things  had  to  bo 
clone  —  mystic,  wild,  solemn  — hy  which  to  propitiate  their  :; 
;v:id  consecrate  their  .sacrifices.  The  youth  of  each  nation,  who 
had  never  yet  taken  (he  field,  were  each  conveyed  to  the 
•'Silent  Lodges,"  where,  for  a  certain  time,  under  trials  of  hun 
ger,  thirst,  and  exposure,  they  were  to  go  through  a  sort  of 
sacred  probation,  during  which  their  visions  were  to  become 
auguries,  and  to  shadow  forth  the  duties  and  the  events  of  their 
ruture  career.  This  probation  over,  they  took  their  part  in 
solemn  feast  a*id  council,  in  order  to  decide  upon  the  most 
dausible  plans  •»:'  action,  and  to  obtain  the  sanction  and  direc- 
:on  of  the  Great  Spirit,  as  ascertained  by  their  priests.  You 
a.teady  possess  some  general  idea  of  the  horrid  and  unseemly 
3  which  were  held  proper  to  these  occasions.  We  are  all, 
more  or  less  familiar  with  that  barbarous  mummery,  in  which, 
•• '.icli  occasions,  m  _  ••-;  indulge;  blindly,  and  to  us 

insanely,  but  having  their  own  motives,  and  the  greatest  con 
fidence  in  the  efficacy  of  their  rites.  These  proceedings  '• 
days  and  nights,  and  nothing  was  omitted,  of  their  usual  per- 
formances.  which  could  excite  the  enthusiasm  of  the  people 
wliile  strengthening  their  faith  in  their  gods,  their  priesthood 
and  their  destiny.  In  the  deepest  recesses  of  wood  the  incanta 
ti.Mis  were  carried  on.  Half  naked,  with  bodies  blackened  and 
painted,  the  priests  officiated  before  flaming  altars  of  wood  and 
brush.  On  these  they  piled  native  offerings.  The  fat  of  the 
bear  and  buffalo  sent  up  reeking  steams  to  the  nostrils  of  their 
savage  gods,  mingled  with  gentler  essences,  aromatic  scents. 
extracted  from  bruised  or  burning  Bhrubfl  of  strong  odorous  prop 
erties  The  atmosphere  became  impregnated  with  their  fi; 
and  the.  audience  —  the  worshippers,  rather  —  grew  intoxicated 
us  they  inhaled.  The  priests  were  already  intoxicated,  drink 
ing  decoctions  of  acrid,  bitter,  fiery  roots  of  the  forests  *\*» 
qualities  of  which  they  thoroughly  knew.  Filled  wit!  *heL 


Tin:    A.DOUBT. 

they  danced,   they   sang,  they    ran,  ami    sent    up, 
'iwhile,  the    most  horrid   howls  to  their  demon.      Filled  with 
a  sacred    fury,  tli-  :    hither   and    thither,  smiting    t; 

selves  unsparingly  with  .sharp  flints,  which  covered  their  lin 

anus  with    hlo,.d.      Thus  maddened,  they  divined,  and    tin; 
nation  hung  tremlding,  as  with    a   single    heart,  upon   the    awful 
':jis.      'I'll,-  M-ene  is  one  tor  the  most   vivid 
ami  intense  of  the  melodramas.      Talk  of  your  Druid  sacri; 

en  in  your  operas.      They  are  not,  for    the    picturesque  and 
terrrMe.  to    he   spoken   «•!'   in    the   same   hour  with   those  of   our 

In  the  Ca0fl  ..f  lioth  nations,  as  might  he  expected,  the  j 
divined   and    j.  ral    success.      They  took  rare,  how- 

over,  as  is  usually  the  case  with  the  prophets  of  the  super-ti; 

•;ik  in  la:  ;iiciently  vague  to  allow  of  its  application 

to    any  >ut  of  events;    or  they  re-red    solely  upon    safe    pr> 
which  commonly  hring  ahoiit  their  own  verification.      T 
did    not,    however,    content    themselves    with     prophesying    the 
e\ent-  -if  the  war.      They  consulted    as  well    the   course  of   the 
!i  to    he    pursued  —  the    plans    to    he  adopted  —  the    leaders 
and  this,  too,  in   such   manner  as  to  leave  no  loopholes 
LOn.       Thus    they    encouraged    their    favorites,    re!  uked 
and    kept  down  leaders  \\hom    they  feared,  and  kept  the  nation 
.-•J.j'Tt   \vh"lly  t  .  their  o\\  n  exclusive  despotism. 

The    reap  ,  .-ciaMy    made    hy    the     1'awnee    prietl 

Ifl  with    refei'ence    t««  the  approaching 
with  that  nation  which 

should    llr.-t    suecee.l    in    making  ; 

doomed  to  the    torture    hy   tire.      Such    a 

•!  and  harhar.'iis  it  may  >eem,  w  i  highly  mer 

ciful  h-ulated    really    t<»    .ini(diorate    the    in.rrors    of 

.oniote  the  >afety  of   human  life.      T'  ;pou 

—  a  peop!.  -rain 

their    aj. petite    for    l.attle.      Their    great     poKc; 
unne  of   any  sort,  while    emjdoying    all    their   suh- 

for   the    pi»-ession  of  a  n.f  ..      T  •    this    the  war 

i    them-  ii    wonderful    unaniinitv.    !  e.t    to 

:    their  vhief  ajipetitrs,  all  oi'   which  indi 
jht. 


SOUTHWARD    110! 


CUAl'TKR     II 


THE  Omahas,  on  the.  other  hand,  had  their  favorite  augurie* 
also,  and  the  response  from  theii  gi;ds  was  not  d:ssimilar  to  tha. 
which   had  been  given  to  the  Pawnees.     It  said  that  the  nation 
should   infallibly  succeed  in  the  campaign,  tchi>-h   xltiml.l  r< 
thcjirtt  Liu'.c.     But  nothing  was  said  of  captivity.     Similar,  hut 
in  conflict,  were    the   predictions.     In  both  eases,  a-,   in    batth  t- 
usually,  everything  was   made,   to   depend   u]>on   the    fu>t    1 
While,  therefore,  the  policy  of  the  Pawin  ' 

everything  like   conflict,  that  of   the  Omahas   wac  rok« 

action   and  hurry  into  danger.     Their   warr:  -.bled,  ac 

cordingly,  at  all  points,  and  issued  from  their  !odge>  and  towns, 
taking  the  trail  for  the  enemy's  country.  This  they  soon  pen 
etrated.  But  the  Pawnees  were  very  wary,  Th.  only 
on  the  defensive,  and  wholly  avoided  action  ;  retreated  before 
equal  numbers,  and  simply  contented  themselves  with  kee, 
out  of  danger,  while  keeping  the  Omahas  for  ever  vigilant. 
Their  caution,  which  was  a  very  unwonted  urtue,  provoked  the 
(  hnahas  to  desperation.  Their  effrontery  was  prodigious.  They 
exposed  themselves  to  the  shaft  on  all  occasions,  rushing  be 
neath  the  fastnesses  of  the  Pawnees,  striking  their  naked  biv 
and  defying  their  enemies  to  shoot.  But  the  latter  lay  jn-niti, 
quietly,  if  not  calmly,  looking  on,  and  apparently  satisfied  t<» 
keep  their  towns  and  camps  in  safety.  They  neither  in\ 
attack  nor  awaited  it,  and  resolutely  avoided  giving — what  the 
(Mi!;-!);-:  solicited  --  that  Jirxt  ttluu-  !  Jt  is  true  that  the  young 
Pawnee,  braves  felt  sorely  the  necessity  to  which  they  were 
required  to  :-ubmit.  Bitterly,  in  their  hearts,  th<  the 
decree  which  kept  them  inactive  ;  forced  to  submit  to  taunt-, 
reproaches,  and  invectives,  from  a  people  whom  they  loathed, 
:uid  affected  to  despise.  It  was  scarcely  possible  to  restrain 
the  younir  Pawnee,  bloods  under  such  severe  trials  of  their 
temper; — but  the  voice  of  the  priesthood  was  paramount  ;  and, 
blindly  believing  that  safety  lay  only  in  their  predictions,  they 

6  persuaded  to  suspend  the  thirst  of  blood,  and  to  substitute 
Mibtl'-ty    for  valor.      To    circumvent    the   enemy — to   make    the 

•jve,  —  not    to    slav.  n-.f    evei  '"''  :    this  WB8   the   great 

luty    and    the    eager    desire    witli    the  warriors   of   the    P,v,\ 


N'K.  -HI 

Bll! 

Hict.     T  ,.1    to   bo    smitten.     They   will 

They  w.>uld  force  *'  -•  the 

blow,  whieL   v,  c  prophecy  and  satisfy  the 

ditions   of  tin-   other.      They  wrii'    ;. 

•heiiiM-h  -  'Mom    singly,  ami    •' 

armed    tor   hattle.      Turn  where  the    1'au  m-es  would — M-t  what 

•y  mi-ht--  rinjiloy  \vli:it  arts,  —  still    tlu«y  f.iin-l  ti. 
:  i'"il''<l  1'V  tl:-  ::t  and  ;t 

l^tit  the   I'awistM-  w.irri.irs   lia-l   SMHIC  !  them, 

rtixl  '  :.r>tly.  and   plann-'d  with  equal   deli! 

tion  an«l  method.      Amon^  the>r  How  of  j^reat    renown, 

with  the  aneuphonie  u.-ime  <>i'  Ki":.!.. 

fall-  KlOnk.       lie  WU  U   shrewd 

I'J'-'^1  full  "f  rneriry  and  >|>irit,  l»'it;^    ju>t 

al.out  thirty  3  ..:•.      H      wi    what  we  migl  I 

did  Mark    Antony   an 

—fond  "f  p.o.l  living  —  a  rather  merry  companion  [MI- an  In 
dian,  1  -lit    in   hattle  a   g  ker  —  hec«>min^  drunk   and 
deli                          Mannish  rapture  at  the  >i-ht   or   :  !ood. 
•'  Kinnk.      He.  had  his  < 

!th    tln>  heail    men  of  the    nation  !,«•    Mi'Menly 
!i  hut  -«dei-t  party  of  warriors,  t<-  jmt  them 
ution.      What  was   this  famou.-    proj,  , 

much    in\-t«-i-y    \\  as    thrown?      B  '  !y    did    Kinnk    r.ii'i 

followen    depart,  that    noh"dy    dreamed    of  their   , 

• 

;   they  paned  unseen  ami  un-  iin^ 

:'  the  rim;  whom  the  Omah;. 

alonu'  the   lin.  .g   them  fi-im  theii 

:ivc,  unhurt,    i 
for  tlie  fiery  torture,  w. 

.•cure  thriii  the  v: 
ill    the  wh-dc   \ 

:pefual    .-.j-rii..  the 

and  nin-t    beautiful  .situation.-    :! 
Tlirir  :  ill    Mam!. 

i    hn>ad    and    ^rla--y    lake.   \vhi»-l.  ij|tu  the 


i!2  SOUTH  WAIID.  HO  ! 

river  Platte.  The  Pawnees  had  long  looked  with  eagei  and 
lustful  eyes  upon  this  lovely  abiding  place.  It  seemed  to  real 
ize  to  their  imaginations  the  dream  of  the  Indian  heavt  us.  It 
was  so  cool,  so  solitary,  and,  though  an  island,  so  shady  \\itb 
noble  groves.  There  the  hanks  seemed  to  wear  the  green  oi'  ,•» 
perpetual  summer.  Never  were  there  such  flowers  a*  1»1..<> 
for  them  by  the  wayside;  and  the  singing  birds  loved  the  re 
gion,  and  dwelt  there,  cherished  choristers,  throughout  the  year 
There  were  other  luxuries  in  that  little  island  honi'  <>i'  ih.-  '  >ma 
has  which  were  even  more  precious  and  wooing  in  the  sight  of 
the  hungry  Pawnees.  The  ii.-;h  inhabiting  the  lake  were  in 
abundance,  and  of  surpassing  fatness  and  llavor.  No  wonder 
that  the  Lonps  hated  a  people  in  the  exclusive  possession  of  such 
a  delicious  home  ! 

The  great  scheme  of  Kionk  was  to  effect  a  descent  upon  the 
island,  and  carry  oft'  one  at  least  of  the  inhabitants.  This,  it 
was  assumed,  it  was  (jnite  easy  to  do,  provided  the  utmost  cau 
tion  was  observed,  and  that  nothing  happened  to  render  the 
Omahas  .suspicious  of  their  object.  Kionk  reasoned  rightly, 
when  he  urged  upon  the  chiefs  that,  while  invading  their  ene 
my's  country,  the  Omahas  would  never  dream  of  any  foray  into 
their  own!  Their  chief  strength  was  well  known  to  be  in  the 
lield,  hovering  all  about  the  Pawnee  settlements.  It  v,-as  argued 
that  the  secluded  situation  of  the  village  —  its  re:<r*tene>s  from 
the  scene  of  active  operations — and  its  natural  securities  would, 
in  all  probability,  render  the  Omahas  over-confident  of  its  safety  , 
that  they  had  probably  left  lew  men  upon  the  island,  and  :'• 
mostly  the  infirm  and  timid.  These  would  offer  but  a  weak  de 
fence  ;  but  as  assault  was  not  the  object,  only  surprise,  even  this 
Was  not  apprehended.  Kionk,  as  we  have  Been,  d  in 

jHTMiading  the  chiefs  in  council,  and  departed  with  his  chosen 
hand,  making  a  successful  circuit,  which  enabled  him  to  pass  the 
bcouts  of  the  Omahas,  his  progress  entirely  unsuspected. 

J  H  A  I»  T  F.  It     III. 

MKA.NWHILK,  the   Omahas    labored    in  vain    to    provoke    the'x 
Mieinies  to  action.      Never  did  warrior-    how  them-.  .  »lici- 

of  being  beaten  —  struck  ai  and  liover  did  Christ i;n> 


Till.    OHJ  >YA. 

reluctant    (••    oe,tow  the    much 
:.t.      Thi  ''"iiM  H"t    hi.xt    f..r 

Our    Omahas    heiran    to    '  '  apaticnt,  and 

tin-  i  riesthi.oil  and  its  prophecies,  in  their  heart  "f  hear 

•!;at  they  wen-  not   kept   idle,  hut   constantly  watchful   Mid 
IflO,  that  th.-y  kept  their  hands  in  f.-r  war,  '  }    prac 
tising    .,  \«-rv  slaughterous    campaign    against    hear,  hntlalo,  and 
huck.      Hut    this   did    not   satisfy    the    national    appetite    f<u 

1  of  their  hated  rivals.  And  they  groaned  with  impatience 
at  the  difficulty  of  complying  with  the  conditions  of  the  war. 
which  the  prophets  had  prescribed,  in  eon.-eijuence  of  the  most 
unnatural  forhearance  display ed  hy  the  Pawn. 

Among  the   younj;  warrior!  of  the  Oniahas  who  su tiered    from 

this  impatience,  th<  I  gallant  youth,  little  more  than 

.hood,  who   had    already  made  himself  famous   hy 

all    the    ([ualities   of   w,.rrior   and    hunter.      A 

r  accomplished    fellow  than  Knemoya,  the-   nation 

did  i  .uite   y«»unj;   still,  he    had   heen  tried 

in  frequent  bail  had  acquired  such  a  reputation  for  equal 

t,    skill,  and    understanding,  tbat   he   took   a   foremost   rank 

ann-nj:   1  .  whether  in   action,  or  in  the  preliminary  de- 

liiierati-'iis    of  the    council.      But    Knemoya,    though    hrave    and 

war,  had  vet   his  weak  lit-  was  not   ii^ensihle 

to  the  tender  passion.      There  was  a  yoniitf  woman  <>i'  his   trihe, 

al    name  of  Missouri;    and   the   first 

i-Som-  which  Knenioya  had    that    this   youn^  woman  wa 
:u:pMitaiice  in  I  ;<lden  discovery  of 

tlie  -icat  heanties  of  this  name. —  The  Indian  warrior,  like  Rich 
ard  Co'iir  de   I.e. MI,  and  the  kniirhts  m»st  fam-  :       \mce.i. 

'thin^  of  a  .Jongleur. —  At  all  events,  eveiy  chief  of  th- 
men  MIIL:>  liis  war  BOng,  his  hattle  hymn,  his  son^  of  rejni, 
and  his  death  «  l.ant.  OJ  the  (juality  of  tin  U  \\«>rks 

of  art,  we  ha  \Ilalde  t«-  Bay.      They   were  pnih;ild\ 

any  Letter    than  tho.se  of  Co-nr   dc  I.e^n  and    his    hrother    1-ard 
knights   "f   Provence.      Perhaps,    metrical    harmony    consid. 
lliey  were  imt  hal:  .      In  making  s«»n^s  t««r   the  fair   Mis- 

houri.  I'.ne!ii-\  a    did    l>y  ii"  means    -et    uj»  for  a  ji.>et  ;    and    that 
his  s.iiii:  has  •   at  all.  il  '.lie  tact  that   ii 

found    t.)   answer    !h«  lovers   ai:!'»njj   the 


414  SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 

v'd  knights  of  the  Oinal  It  has  even  found  circnlaii..:  among 
the  Pawnees,  and,  by  t»  e  last  advices  from  thai  tribe,  it  is  said 
that  tliis  people  actually  claim  the  original  verses  for  one  of  thcii 
own  wamOCT  a  claim  which  we  need  scarcely  assure  you 
is  totally  unfounded.  Perhaps,  however,  it  matters  very  little 
with  whom  the  authorship  pi,>perly  lies.  It  is  certain  that 
Knemoya,  stealing  behind  the  lovely  Missouri,  while  she  played 
with  her  sister's  children  in  a  stately  grove  on  the  borders  of 
the  beautiful  lake,  chanted  the  following  ditty  in  her  ear.  We 
make  a  close,  translation  from  the  original,  putting  it,  how< 
into  good  English  rhymes,  HI  the  hope  that  it  may  be  adopted 
bv  I*u*c«U  '.r  Some  other  popular  singer,  and  become  the  sub 
stitute  lor  the  poor,  flat,  puny,  mean-spirited  love  songs,  which 
are  at  present  so  discreditable  to  the  manhood  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  race.  We  are  constrained  to  add  that  Eno:..oya,  though 
he  had  a  good  voice,  nnd  could  scream  with  any  eagle,  \fna  yet 
rather  monotonous  in  singing  his  ditty. 

LOVE    SONG    OF    ENEMOYA, 

ONE  OF  THE  GREAT  WAR  CHIKKS  OF  TrtK  OMAHAI. 


FAWN  of  the  forest  isle,  hut  see 

The  gifts  tlmt  I  have  bn.oght  for  thee, 

To  oleise  thy  heart  and  win  thine  eve*. 
Here  arc  the  loveliest  beads,  as  bright 
As  flowers  by  day,  and  star?  hy  night, 

All  colored  with  the  prettier,  dyes  !— 
Oh1  take  them,  girl  of  Omaha  ' 

II. 

Take  them,  with  other  gifts  05  dear 
Which  thou  wilt  make  more  bright  to  ~«-*r 

This  robe  of  calico  but  view — 
From  pale-fat  ed  trader  bought,  who  iwcrc 
The  world  ne'er  saw  the  like  brfore, 

8~>  Boftiy  red,  so  green,  so  blue — 
)h  !  take  it,  girl  of  Omaha  ! 


This  ihawl  of  acnrb-f,  see — to  fold 
About  thy  in-ck,  whi-n  dn)«  t,n-  cuJ  l- 


l.<>\  HA, 

ROD 

A  aeon-.  ami  us' 

IV. 

•wl, 
Of  tin     a  mrtal,  l»y  my  M«U], 

.!•••:  , 

hut  h«-ar  thrin  tin>r— 
Tiny,  i  : 

nh  !  tjtU,-  t!i«  m  -'ii'i  "!' 


:a  tin-  man 

an  ! 

Pm 

,1  nf  ali  thr  I'liil. 
tOT  any  th«.' 
As  I  am 

.  irirl  «>1   <  Mnaha  ! 

VI 

nil'  it   vein  an-  wise  :  an«l  know 
My  li.ilurr  i-  i-'-a  : 
<  >! 

tliiity  \«-n. 

n\r  buffalo  II'-M.J  -  are  In 

An-i  r 

.:irl  nl   (  iinaha  ! 

VII. 

;all  IM.SM>S  th\   1 
I'll  t.i: 

'ii, 
|    I. ut  m\   1 

•••n.  ami  i" 
Ami  tak-    inr.  . 

will      l»r      r.-il'.nl      VathiT     :i      n«ULr!i  ill    OU1 

softly    sriiiimrin  .  .     1»ut.  anicn-    th.- 


110  SOUTHWARD    IK)! 

tion  of  a  love  song.  It  dealt  frankly  with  the  maiden,  it 
told  her  all  that  she  ought  to  know,  and  warned  her  of  what  khe 
Lad  to  expect,  whether  she  took  him  or  not  The  lover  nevei 
thought  of  the  damsel's  fortune  ;  hut  he  freely  tendered  every 
thing  that  he  himself  possessed.  It  was  herself  only  that  he 
wanted.  He  was  no  fortune-hunter.  He  was  a  ni*n,  and  he 
talked  to  her  like  a  man.  "  See  what  provision  I  have  made  foi 
you.  Look  into  my  lodge.  See  the  piles  of  meat  in  yondei 
corner.  They  arc  humps  of  the  buffalo.  These  alone  will  last 
us  two  all  the  winter.  But  look  up  at  the  thirty  venison 
hams,  and  the  quarters  of  the  hear  now  smoking,  hanging  from 
the  rafters.  There's  a  sight  to  give  a  young  woman  an  appe 
tite.  They  are  all  your  own,  my  beauty.  You  perceive  that 
there's  much  more  than  enough,  and  in  green  pea  season  v/e  can 
give  any  number  of  suppers.  Lift  yon  blanket.  That  is  OUT 
sleeping  apartment.  See  the  piles  of  bear  skins  :  they  shall 
form  our  couch.  Look  at  the  tin  ware  —  that  most  precious  of 
all  the  metals  of  the  white  man  —  yet  I  have  appropriated  all 
these  to  culinary  purposes.  As  for  jewels  and  ornaments,  the 
beads,  of  which  I  have  given  you  a  sample,  are  here  in  abun 
dance.  These  are  all  your  treasures,  and  you  will  do  wisely  to 
accept.  Now,  my  beauty,  I  don't  want  to  coerce  your  tastes,  or 
to  bias  your  judgment  in  making  a  free  choice;  but  I  must  say 
that  you  shall  never  marry  anybody  but  myself.  I'm  the  very 
man  for  you  ;  able  to  fight  your  battles  and  bring  you  plentiful 
supplies  ;  and  feeling  that  1  am  the  only  proper  man  for  you,  I 
shall  seal})  the  first  rival  that  looks  on  you  with  impertinent 
eyes  of  passion;  nay,  scalp  you  too,  if  you  are  so  absurd  as  !• 
look  on  him  with  eyes  of  requital.  I'm  the  only  proper  person 
for  you,  I  tell  you." 

We  need  scarcely  say  that  this  performance  made  Knemoya 
as  famous  as  a  poet,  as  he  had  been  as  a  warrior  and  hunter,  it 
is  now  universally  considered  the  clef  d'tnurre  of  the  Omahas. 
As  a  matter  of  course,  it  proved  irresistible,  with  the  lair  Mis 
souri.  It  had  an  unctuous  property  about  it,  which  commended 
the  lover  to  all  her  tastes.  She  suffered  him  to  put  his  arms 
about  her,  to  give  her  the  kiss  of  bcfrothal,  which,  among  the 
Omaha  women,  is  called  the  "kiss  of  consolation,"  airl  the  re 
sult  was,  an  arrangement  for  the  bridal,  with  the,  close  of  tV:9 


IN'MAN    DBEA  HI!  -117 

impawn,  :ui(l    tin-  opening  of  tin-   -printj—  that    N.  taking 
for     Lrranted     that    Knenio\  a    do<-    not     happ« n.     l.y    any  chain  • 
li-avi-     hi  .-alp     alon^r    tin-     \\ar-path.      r,ut     neither    parly 

thought    of    this  contin_  'hey    made  \«  TV    li-ht    of  it.     Tin- 

courtship   occurred    that    very    autumn,    and    ju-t    as    the     wan 

preparing    for    the    \vinter     campaign.      It      \\as    durini:     the 
"windy     month"    (October),    and    they     \veiv    to     wait    till     Ma\ . 
And  Kneinoya  wa-  to  be  absent  all  winter  !     It    wa<  quite  a  trial  even 
rker  Omaha  ! 

C1I  A  1'TER  IV. 

Hi-   new    relations  with    the  dam-(  1    MN-ouri.    and  the    in 
hiiity  of  t<Tcin-    the    Pawnee   Loup-  to   make  the    assault,   rendered 
QOya     very   impatient    of   the    war.     Day    by  day  he     became 

and    nio,  more  and   more    di^ativti«-d  —  more    and 

moiv  troubled  by  the  stmni:c>t  lon-inu  to  steal  away,  and  take. 
if  only  a  look,  at  the  dusky  but  beautiful  damsel,  by  the  lake 
side,  and  amonij  the  thicket-.  He  had  picked  up  certain  spoils 
amoiiLT  i!ie  villages  of  the  Pawnee-  -for  the  decree  of  the 
Omaha  prophets  did  not  denounce  the  -poilim:  of  the  K^vplians; 
only  the  slaying  of  them  — and,  now  that  he  wafl  a  brtr.-tlied 
lover.  Ijiemoya  was  quite  as  a\id  after  >poiN  a-  ever  feudal 
ehiefia::!  in  the  palmy  days  of  chivalry.  And  why  should  he 
not  draw  i.lV  from  the  camp,  and  carry  IK. me  his  tiva-iin •-  and 
hi-  tn,|,hirs  •:  \Vh  » be  done?  The  Pawnees  would 

not    1'mht— would   not   strike,  at  all  events  — and  eluded    all  e;' 
to    brim:    them    to    blows,    and     dodired     admirably    .  •;    of 

danger.  !!••  «  "Uld  do  no  more  than  he  had  done,  and  the 
bu>i:  ffai  ha-.  :  i.-d  into  a  question  of  D 

lance  an  ;  thai  thi>  cuild   be  carried  on    quite  as 

well  by  ordinary  warriors  a-  by  the  !•<-:.  A-  for  huntin«r.  uhv 
should  lie  fali-ue  liii;i-,lfin  thi-  busin.  --  Had  he  not  alnadv 
shown  to  Mi,x. ,iiri  ih«-  !  his  cabin  rcekinur  of  the  i 

savor  •hinkiiii:.    lie   daily    -rew    more     and     more 

<-on\:  Ibo    proprii  ty    of     returnii:-    h.,mc.      Hi-    me<lita' 

intlueiKvd  \\\<  dreamt,  and  tlie-e  tilled  him  with  trouble.  An 
Indian  i-  a  (  t  f.,iil,  ju  tlu-  (juality 

uf   (i;  ''he    practi.  •       |  .    \t  a    favori'e    among 


418  SOUIHWARD    HO  ! 

I'i..  priests  and  prophets.     The  orientals  were  never  such  famous 
interpreters  in  the  days  of  "(lie  Elders."     Being  a  poet  als ., 
Enenioya  shared  in  the  dreaming  endowment  of  the  priest). 
)7i]  sleep  was  wholly  occupied  with   dreams.     In   all   of  tlir.-t- 
-•uri  was  a.  conspicuous  feature.     Now  he  yaw  her  in  flight-, 
:    w  in  tears,  and  trembling ;  anon  he  beheld  her  fettered ;  and 
..he  seemed  to    float   away  from   his   embrace,  a  bleeding 
s;rctre,  melting   away  finally  into  thin   air.     In  most  of 
dreams,  he  beheld  always,  as  one  of  the  persons  of  the  urama,  a 
warrior  in  the  hateful  guise  of  a  Pawnee.    How  should  a  l'a\\  n.-e 
dare  to  hover,  even  in  a  dream,  about  the  person  of  Mi^.-uri,  the 
betrothed  of  a  great  chief  of  the  Omahas  1     What  had  he  to  do 
there  ?  and  why  did  the  spectre  of  one  unknown,  whom  i:: 
he  only  saw  dimly,  and   always  with   fan-  !   looking 

toward  Missouri  —  why  did  he  presume  to  thrust  himself  between 
Iiis  visions  and  the  object  so  precious  and  ever  present  to  his 
dreams?  The  heart  of  the  young  warrior  became  uneasy,  as  he 
could  conjecture  no  reasonable  jolution  ^f  his  difficulty,  unless, 
indeed,  one  of  which  he  dared  not  think.  AVas  Missouri  the 
captive  of  the  Pawnee  ?  He  recoiled  at  the  notion  —  he  laughed, 
but  rather  hollowly,  and  with  great  effort — and  became  moie 
uneasy  than  ever.  His  waking  dreams,  shaped  by  those  that 
tai  3  to  him  in  sleep,  became  still  more  troublesome,  and  he  re- 
»oh;  d  to  dep'».  secretly  for  the  clear  islet  in  the  little  lake,  if 

al)    o  disarm  his  doubts,  and  get  rid  of  his  vexatious  fa;, 
vln  importunity  soon  enabled  him  to  do  so.     A  large,  party  of 

lie  G'-iahas  had  resolved  upon  a  long  hunt,  and  they  applied  to 
'Cnemcya  to  join  them.    The  sport  in  no  way  promised  to  i 
,'' M',  with  the  yttuxi  warfare  which  was   carried   on;   and,  finding 
j    impossible   to    bring   the.    Pawnees   to   the  striking  point,  the 
Omahas  contented  themselves  with   the  waifare  upon  the  <juad- 
rupeds  of  the  forest.     Enemoya  joined  the  hunt,  but  soon 
appeared  from  the  party.     They  did  not  miss  him  til1  nightfall, 
and    i/i    the   meantime   he  Had  sued,  fast  and  far,  pushing  back 
ward  along  the  paths  leading  to  the  little  i>land,  and  the  dusky 
damsel  whom  he  loved. 

But  the,  youi  4^  warrior  was  late,  though  no  laggard.  Ilia 
enemy  had  \>f.c\\  '  <  fore1  him.  That  subtle  and  enterprising  Kionk 
'iad  led  his  ^s  .{v  v  *•*  surprising  address,  and  had  succeeded  in 


.  Y.  41 

liieh    the  '  hed 

I,  vithout  imp  .   interruption,  lir.tl 

.i:ad.  ''illy  to    tin1    horders   of   the    litt! 

•vhirli    the    1.1.  hrn.-iding  up"; 

'.ing   could    look    n; 

iidd   think  th   ' 
In-ill    i(    i.nly.  wniilil    (1: 

e  lay  the  yjiii-  .ml.      Th--  hite 

curli:  in  the  little  cahin  ;   and  sec-   heneath  the  : 

uhe  'tildren  arc  skipping gajly 

.  as  little 

!iil   imt  disarm  the  Pawnee  chief.      On  the  con- 
•:ed    his    n-Milve.    and    stimulated    his 
tain  this  captive,"  he   thought  t<>  hii; 

•'ien  M-e  take  j 
,.f  this  l.eantil'ul  island,  tiiis  fine  lake  always  full  nf  the 

1  can  keep  a  score 
of  horsi-s  without   sending  them  mit  to  p,  9B.n      And  the  eye  of 

ik  aln-a.!;.  a  particular  site  for  his  own   future 

tlement,  and  i>y  no  mean*  stinted    himself  in  the  numher  of  his 

.      But   ho  di.l   not,  while   thus   thinking  OJ 
"f  j, hinder,  het-ome    neuh-.-tful  «»f  the  duties  which 
he  had  Undertaken,       II     l<  -ked  alxmt  him,  the    I.  vose- 

'.  ii"t    t<>  he  told    that  this  inquiry  was 

1   in  the 

that  nom-  of  the  innocent  children  and  the  thou^l 
!'  the  islet,  oil  the  oppnsiu-  RJ 

("iii  .pse  of  tlieir  persons  or  I 

maraud.  ;p    the    stream,  for    the    lak  '..iplv 

r,  \\hich    • 

The    P;r,  pt    under    cover  till    tin 

•    1  upon  t] 

ii    .  •  •''•••  ..  hich  th. 

fr'»'.  them  .'io\\n  t 

-•  th  -ir  paildh 

kid  all'ini  • 


420  SOUTHWARD    HO! 

i\ -i]  was  quite  successful.     The  Pawnee  *AH\  -lors  found  them 
selves,  for  t^ie  first  time,  on  t.h?  blo.sw3  ikland  of  the  Omahas 
The  rejHIe   was  in   the  garden.      Ho  crawled,  and   crept,  or 
sneaked,  crouching  or  gliding  from  cover  to  cover,  from  thicket 
to  thicket,  and  stealing  from  side  to  side,  wherever  lie  thought 
it   most  probabl  >  that  he  should  happen   upon  the   victi.i 
sought.     More      -in  once  Kionk  might  have  caught  up  a  child 
a  nice  little  girl     £  seven  or  eight,  or  a  stout  chunk  of  a  boy  of 
similar  ige ;  but   he  had  his  doubts  if  such  juveniles  were  con 
templated  by  tin  oracle.     He  must  do  his  work  thoroughly,  and 
having  gone  thri     far  in  hio  enterprise,  peril  nothing   upon   a 
miserable  doubt. 


CHAPTER     V. 

LITTLE  did  the  beautiful  damsel  Missouri  fancy,  as  she  sat 
singing  that  evening  by  the  shore  of  the  quiet  lake,  while  the 
infant  child  of  her  sister,  Tanewaliakila,  was  rocking  in  a  case 
of  wicker  worl-  0:om  the  boughs  of  an  outspreading  tree,  that 
danger  hung  about  her  footsteps.  She  sung,  in  the  gladness  of 
a  young  warm  heart,  scarcely  knowing  what  she  sang,  and 
musing,  in  delicious  reveries,  upon  the  spring  season,  which  it  is 
so  pleasant  to  think  of  when  one  is  lonely  in  cold  weather  and 
which  was  to  bring  oack  Enemoya  to  her  arms,  a  triumphant 
warrior.  Alas  !  what  a  happy  dream  the  Fates  are  about  to 
.nock  with  their  cruel  performances.  What  a  lovely  picture  cf 
peace  and  felicity  is  ab^"f  ro  be  blackened  with  the  thunderbor* 
nnd  storm  ! 

"NVhile  Missouri  sang,  or  mused,  lost  in  her  sweet  reveries,  tb« 
hand  of  the  fierce  Pawiv  e  chief,  KiorJk,  was  aid  upon  her  H'-<I.,I 
»lcr.  Before  she  could  turn  to  see  who  was  the  rude  if4J"i*li« 
his  shawl  had  been  wound  about  her  mouth,  shutting  in  her 
cries.  In  another  monv'.nt  she  was  lifted  in  his  powerful  arms 
and  borne  into  the  thicktls  The  infant  was  left  swinging  in  his 
U'iskct  rocker  from  the  tree! 

The  lightfooted  Enemoya,  meanwhile,  sped  with  all  the  ;ro 
petuous  diligence  of  a  lover  toward    ;he  precious  little  isiet,  «% 
full  of  treasure  for  hi-  lier.it.      Pursuing  a  direct  course   lie  was 
not  long  in  consumn.,u:n<jr  his  journey,  and  at  the  close  of  a  fin* 


ilav    in    November    we  find  him    once  more  on  tlie    I-  the 

litlle    hike,    ami    lookii.  i<»    the    happy    haven    which    lie 

lit  He  paused  for  an  infant  only  1o  ink.-  fn»m  the  l»ouiih 
from  which  it  d-pended  the  clear  \ello\\  :;ourd.  ~i:di  :i> 

\\hetv  pi;:' <  d  ( "Mveniently  for  the  wayfarer,  a.-nl  -cooped 
up  a  :'aiiirht  from  the  flowing  vraten,  Then  1: 

out  a  little  can>  "f    many    which    lay    aloiiir  the  BJ 

and  paddVd  out   into  the    lake,   maki:  J    t..\vard  the  well 

remembered  headlands,     when-    Mi-M>uri    \\a<    wont     to    play    with 
the  children    of    1;.  Taiiewahakila,    the    wife    of  hi-;  coii-in, 

the    irrim    warrior     of     ( >uanaweira  p"!  '         -nirwhat    surp: ' 

:ioya  that  he  seemed  to  he  uii-eeii  by  the  villagers,  of  whom 
he  him-df  beheld  none:  and  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  inquietude 
that  he  looked  vainly  to  the  headlands  he  was  approaching  for 

•  uri   hersflf. —  IJut.  when   he  readied  the  i-land. 

and  his  little    boat    shut    up   alon<:    the    silvery   beach.    h«-   beiran  to 
tremble  with  a    <t  ran  ire    fear    at    the  de<  p    and    utter  silence  winch 
prevail. 'd   everywhen.      II-     p'l-hed   rapidly    for    the 
newahakila,   but   it   was  silent    and   unteiianted.      The  tire  had  irone 
out  ujxni  the  hearth.      He     was    confounded,    and    hurried    olT    to 
the  villaire.      Here    he    found    the    women    and    children    tratheivd 
within    th<-    picket     enclosure,   and.    from    a    ^eore    of    tongue-,    he 

i Tied     the    di»a-ter.      Mi--i»uri     had     di-appeared.      She    had 

•i     l>onie    upon    strong    Pawnee    shoulder-    to    the  boat  at 

the  upp-r  end  of  the  island,   and.  before  the  alarm   could   be   uivm. 

carried  ihe   opposite    side.      Not    kn..wiii«r 

how    many    of    the    subtle    Pawnee    wen    about,   the    old    an<. 

•it   warrior-  of  the    village  had  all    set    out   on  the  route  -aid  to 
lie    taken    by    the    enemy.      AS    yet.    there    wa<    no     report    of    the 
I',  it    what    report,   or    what    n-ult.  could    be   anticipated 

unl-  •  disappointment  —  fron  a  pur-nit  ..umr  and 

.     undertaken     by     the    -up.r'nin. 
1    with    tli  •    feeling  of  ho; 

•  id    moment    niotioi.' 

heard   all   which   the    woman    had   to   tell,  h  .-IT  in  pursuit. 

ivcd  tO  pcriah  OF  letdM   hi-   du-ky  beauty  from  the  talons  of  her 

cruel  ravtt 

While     Knemoya     was     thu-.     \\ith     fell  ll    and    Btn 

urgini:    the    pursuit,     Ki«»nk,    with    hi>    capti\' 


122  SOUTH  WARD    HO! 

equally  e  pre.-sing  liis  retreat.     But,  to  make  tfiu 

safe,  lie  was  eompeilvd  to  make  it  circuitous.     lie  had  to  fetch 
a  wide  compass,  as  before,  •  tlie  scout:;  and  war  [MU 

of  the  Omahas.     Though  indefatigable,  '  .  in  t!«e  | 

cution  of  his  journey,  Kionk   made  little  din-  TV.t 

he  was  in  no  hurry.     He  could  afford  to  lose  time  now  th,; 
had  his  captive.     It  was  only  required  that  he  should  keri 
trophy.     To  do  this  needed  every  precaution.     lie  knew  that 
he  would  bo  pursuer.      lie  gave  suilk-ieiit  credit  to   his  em 
to  assume  that  they  would  not  give  slumber  It.  their  •  -yel'id.- 
rest  to  their  feet,  in  the  effort  to  rescue  his  prey,  and  to  rev< 
the  indignity  which  they  had  suffered.     He  also  t.><>k  ('• 
that   they  would   hring  to  the   work   an   ingenuity   and    skil1.   a 
icity  and    intelligence,  very  nearly  if  not  equal  to  his  own. 
He   must   he   heedful,  therefore,  to   (.Illiterate    all   traces   of  his 
progress;  to  wind  about   and   double  upon  his  own  tracks;   to 
take  to  the  streams  and  water-courses  whenever  this  was   possi 
ble,  and  to  baffle  by  superior  arts  those  of  his  pursuers.     That 
there   would    be    much    energy   in    the    pursuit,  whatever  might 
be  its  sagacity,  he   did  not  apprehend;    for  lie   knew  that   the 
guardians  of  the  village  were  mostly  superannuated,  and  a  cold 
scent  is  usually  fatal  to  enterprise.      He   knew  that  they  would 
fight,  perhaps   as  well  as  ever,  upon   their  own   ground,  and    in 
defence;   but  for  a  war  of  invasion,  or  one  which   involved  the, 
necessity    of   prompt    decision    and    rapid    action,  old    men 
nearly  useless.      lie   was  therefore   cool,  taking   his  leisure,  but 
playing  fox-work  admirably,  and   omitting  no  precaution.     He 
contrived  to  throw  out  the  veterans  after  a  brief  interval,  and  to 
shake  himself  free  of  their  attentions.     I3ut  he   did   not  dream 
of  that  fierce  wolf-dog  upon  the  scent  —  the  young,  strong,  and 
audaciously-brave  chief,  Enemoya. 

CHAPTER     VI. 

IT   was   not    long    before    Kionk    began    to    take   a   cu no-is 

601    in    the   looks  and  .behavior   of  his   captive.      Very   sad 

and   wretched,  indi-  >ur  du>ky  damsel  ;    but  she  wa>  very 

patient    withal,  r.nd    bore    up    firmly    against    i'atigue,  and   ii< 

once  complained,  and    - -'   *•    ••1-..\v  hrr-elf  perfectly  iusensi- 


TlVt 

hie   to   danger,      She   li.pl    -  -en    p>   t»i»-   wife  of  n  great 

nil    she   v  v  that  .she  possess.' 

i-r-Mi-l  a  <:'  Kionk    hcheld    her  aiul 

:  ancewith    a  :'iction.      Such  A  WOOUUI, 

thought.  .  famous  hu.shand  :   >he  will  do  i. 

to  the  fire  torture.      A:  tin.  he  in- 

pity  of  burning  up  so  much    tine    flesh   and  Mood  ;    such  a  fine 

•h  a  1'ivtty  face  ;    a  cieature  of  so  many  graces  and  heaii- 

who  would    h<-ar  sucli  D0ble4ooking  men-children, 

warlike    father's    heart.       Kionk    I-cgan    to    think 

iinu-li   hetter  it  would   he  if   he  could    pick  up  another  cap- 

ti\e,  am!  • -<uiri  from  the   tire-torture.     She  would  make. 

sr.eh  a  commendahle  \\ife.      But  Kionk   had  a  wife  already;   for 

that  mat:  -t  lie  confessed  that  he  had  three,  and   did  not 

at  reputation  as  an  indulgent  hushand.     But  great 

chief-    h«.ve    peculiar    privileges,  ;in<l    a   chief  like  Kionk    mi^ht 

'fi-ly  repudiate   his  wives    as    anv  of  the  Napoleons,  or    anv 

of  the  Cli.elphs   of  Kurope.       I'lisitivrly,  the   thought   bcjran   to 

i  Jity  Kionk.  of   the  heauties   and  virtues   and 

llent    donie-'i"    nature    of    MisM--iri.       Mon»    than    oner 

•If   muttering:    "What    a   pity    such    a    line    i: . 

should  he  ^corched    and    hlackened    hy  the   fire  !"      He  watclie*! 

her    pitifully    as    he    mused.      When    they  paused    for   food    and 

•tended  kindlily  to  her  wants.      He  hrou^ht  her  the 
liiinsrli  ;    he  chose   the   ground   where    she   slept,  and    threw   his 
liuflY  nd  watcdied   at  her  head  during  the  ; 

-    at    midnight    which    I  i    to    rest.      When,  | 

\vn,  the  j..irt\  hi  in  motion,  he  himself  gave  l.er 

.     ;id  helped  her  Up.       He  was  cuii"ii>l\ 

lid   Kneinoya  have  witn. 

•entions!       Could    he    have    seen    \shat    thoughts 
•hrough  the  hrain  ..f  Kionk  —  what  feelin. 
ing   in  h;  lint  his  jealous  and    apprehensive  .spirit 

:red  all.     What  lo\er  hut  apprehended  tl 

a  chrmnii'g  rival  '. 

While    such  wen-    the    relations    hetween    the    captor   and    tho 
captive.  Enei  li  with   a.s  much  rapiiiii 

••ping   on    the    track    of   the 
fugiti\cs.      He   cncuuntered    tin-   party  of  exhausted  vcteriius  at 


SOUTH  WAKJ>    IK)  ! 

tin-  >pot  \\heie  they  \vi-n-  i In-own  out  of  the  chase  ;  and,  while 
they  returned  sorrowfully  to  the  liltU-  islet,  no  longer  sale  and 
happy,  he  contrivr.1  to  catch  up  the  traCCfl  which  Hay  bad 
lost,  and  once  more  resumed  the  pursui:  \\iih  new  ho;,- 
spirit.  Under  any  circumstances,  tin-  free  step,  the  hold  heart. 
the  keen  eye,  and  prompt  sagacity,  of  Knemoya  would  have 
made  him  fearful  as  a  pursuer;  hut  now.  with  j«  alous  tire  and 
a  fierce  anger  working  terribly  in  his  soul,  all  his  pov, 
mind  and  body  seemed  to  acquire  greater  vigor  than  ever. 
Passion  and  dispair  gave  him  wings,  and  he  >ccmed  to  carry 
eyes  in  his  wings.  Nothing  escaped  ]\i<  glance.  He  BOOH  per 
suaded  himself  that  he  gained  upon  his  enemy.  Then-  are 
traces  which  the  keen  vision  of  the  hunter  will  detect  even 
though  another  hunter  shall  toil  to  bailie  him;  and,  in  spite  of 
the  care  and  precaution  of  Kionk,  lie  could  not  wholly  succeed 
in  obscuring  the  tracks  which  his  partv  unavoidably  made. 
Besides,  anticipating  pursuit  though  certainly  not  that  of  her 
lover,  Missouri  had  quietly  done  all  that  she  might,  in  leaving 
clues  of  her  progress  behind  her.  She  was  not  allowed  to 
break  the  shrubs  as  she  pa— ed.  nor  to  peel  the  green  wands 
nor  to  linger  by  the  way.  Where  she  slept  at  night  the  care 
ful  hands  of  her  captors  stirred  the  leaves,  and  .smoothed  out  all 
pn— ure  from  the  surface.  But  the  captois  were  not  always 
watchful,  and  .Missouri  noted  their  lapses  very  heedfully.  As 
Knemoya  hurries  forward  over  a  little  sandy  ridge,  what  is  it 
that  sparkles  in  the  path?  It  is  one  of  the  bright  blue  beads 
which  lu;  himself  has  wound  about  the  neck  of  the  du>kv  maiden. 
His  hopes  rekindle  and  multiply  in  his  breast  Anon  he  sees 
another,  and  another,  dropped  always  on  the  clear  track,  and 
where  it  may  imprison  the  glistening  rays  of  the  sun.  Now  he 
hurries  forward,  exulting  in  the  certainty  of  his  «-lues.  Toward 
sunset  he  happens  upon  the  clearly  defined  track  of  a  man's 
moccasin.  The  foot  is  large  and  distinct.  There  are  other  like 
tracks,  set  down  without  any  reserve  or  reeming  :ippreheiM'«.n. 
Enemoya  at  once  conclude-,  that  the  Pawnee  p;jrtv,  deeminir 
Ivefl  secure,  no  longer  continue  their  precautions.  This 
encourages  him  still  further.  He  will  now  catch  them  napping. 
Again  he  darts  forward,  following  the  obvious  tracks  before 
him.  But  night  came  down,  and  he  could  only  travel  under  the 


TIIK    «  AMI'    •  '••  \  1.1.-!    V 

a>    pointing    in    the    -ccinii!. 
direction.       Thus.    for   an    hour   or    more    aftt -r    niijit.    In-    followed 
en    through    tin-    dim    forest.       Suddenh  .    as     he     rounds   a    \\ 

Ahicli    he    ran    not     \\atlr.    he    is    startled    by    the    hla/e    of 
a  camp  tin-. 

.<  h    a   tire."    quoth    Knemoya  to  himself.    "  wa>    never    made 
liy    Pawnee   warrior.       H<-  would    never    he  the   fool   n  to  advertise 

leaping  place  t<.  his  ,-n,  11 

Tin-  pn»-i>e(  t  which  \vould  liave  cheered  tlie  white  man.  di>ap 
]>ointed  our  chief  of  Omaha.  He  n«-\v  knew  thai  he  had  IM-CII 
mi-led,  and  had  turned  a<ide  from  the  true  path  indicated  l>v  the 
l.i-a.1  M  uri.  in  follow  upon  one  which  had  been  evidently 

by    (jiiile  another    party.       Hut.    thoiiirh    mortitied    with  him- 
M-lf  at   this  blunderini:,  and    in   allowing  himself    t,.  iva-on   from    a 
:inpti«)ii  —  his  pride    a-    hunter    and    warrior  beimr  equally 
Avounded  --  he    cautiously    approached    the    tire,   around    which    the 
oulli  Mp    of    persons,    dimly    .seen    by    the    bl:. 

croiicliiiii:.      They    proved  to    be    a  party  of    white   men.   and 
busily    en^a-ed    in    the   discussion  of    a    supper   of    broiled    \eiii-oii 
and     Miiokini:     hoecake.  — The    intercourse    of     Kneinoya    with   the 
white    traders,    had  have    already     seen,    been     rather   con 

siderable,    and    the    larger    profits    had    not    certainly    lain    with  the 
red    man.       Tin-    chief     had     It  arned     some     little    of    the    Kn-lish 
ie     in      this     intercourse,     however,    and      he     suddenly      Bl 
Dg    ilu      strangers,     introducim:    himself     with     a     softly    mur 
mured  ;   •    lluddye  do.    brudder  ;     I    berry    i^lad    to    Me    \i,u   in  my 

eooni 

Our  pioi;.  fellows  of    "the    true    irrit."   t..  t-mploy  their 

ou  n   verbal  currency.  —  a>   bii:  limbed,    muscular,    hardy,   and  dare 

eame   from   "  Koarim:    ri\  •  i    '      Tiny 
I. ut    were  on    their    leirs  in  the  twinkling  <>f  an 
.•ach   brandishing    Id.    rifle,   clul)  fashion,   and    fe.  linir   that 
knii  Pltp,     Ti. 

.-.•;  had   drawn    up   if  'tied 

ha\inur  three  neighbor*   in  a 
to   plant    them  anew   in  .n.      The 

OemOja  rea  —  mivd  them. 

H  ..1  fri.'iids  —  brudders  all.     The  (  Muaha  chi< 
friend  t"  '.  .ccs." 


SOUTHWARD    HO! 

And  he  extended  his  hand  which  they  promptly  shook,  all 
round,  and  then  frankly  bade  him  sit  and  share  of  their  provis 
ions.  Kncmoya's  heart  was  not  in  the  feast,  nor  yet  with  his 
new  companions.  He  would  much  rather  never  have  encoun 
tered  them,  but  still  kept  on  the  track  of  the  true  enemy,  a-  pointed 
out  by  the  occasionally  dropped  bead  of  the  poor  Missouri.  Manv 
were  the  secret  imprecations  which  lie  muttered  against  the  big 
feet  of  the  pale-faces,  which  had  diverted  him  from  the  true 
course.  Weary,  almost  to  exhaustion,  he  was  for  the  moment 
utterly  desponding.  The  last  feather  breaks  the  earners  back. 
Now  Enemoya's  spine  was  still,  in  sooth,  unshaken,  but  the  con 
viction  that  he  had  lost  ground  which  lie  might  never  be  able  to 
recover,  made  him  succumb,  as  the  hardiest  man  is  apt  to  do, 
for  a  time,  under  the  constantly  accumulated  pre-ure  of  mis 
fortunes.  He  did  jis  the  Kentiiekians  bade  him.  and  sat  down 
with  them  to  the  supper,  but  not  to  eat.  The  white  men  noted 
\n>  despondency,  and,  little  by  little,  they  wound  out  of  the  war 
rior  the  whole  history  of  his  affairs— the  present  war  between 
Pawnee  and  Omaha  — the  predictions  upon  which  the  result  was 
to  depend  — the  secret  foray  of  the  Pawnees,  and  their  capture 
of  the  dusky  beauty  whom  he  was  to  carry  to  his  lodge  in  the 
spring.  He  narrated  also  the  details  of  his  pursuit  thus  far.  and 
confessed  in  what  manner  he  had  been  misled,  never  dreaming 
of  the  moccasin  track  of  a  white  man  in  the  country  of  the  red. 
at  such  a  moment. 

11  Well,  now,  yours  is  a  mighty  hard    case   for  a  young  fellow  ; 
I   must    say  it   though    I'm    rather   an    old     one     myself,"     \\;is    t Ill- 
remark  of   one    of    the    elders    of    the  white  party       a   gliilj 
some    forty  live   years    of   age,    \n     probably    with   a    more    certain 
vigor  than    he    had    at    thirty-live.       "  It's    not   so   bad    to  l.-se  one's 
wife,    after   he's   got    a    little    usen   to  her;    but     where    il'sonly  at 
the  beginning  of  a  man's  married  life,   and    where  it's  nothing  but 
the   happim-xs  of  the  thing    th:.t    !»••'•<    COH  i<:   I'in'.   to    h;i\e    U 
caught   up,  and  carried  aw:iy   by    an    inim; •  .    mak< 
a    person's    feeli;  like    ha\ing    one's    supper   snapped    up 

by   a   hungry   wolf.  j.  lasted    the   lee'  i,   and 

when  he's  a  wiping  his  mouth  to  cat.  I  confess.  1  feels  onea^v 
at  your  pcrdicament.  Now.  \\hat  do  you  >ay  el'  we  lends  you  a 
hand  to  help  you  git  luck  the  gal." 


-12 

was   cheered   by   the  prospect,   and   expressed   bia 
irratit 

"  \Vell,  that's   pretty  well    said    for   a    red-skin       We  are   the 
KO  lirlp   you.  my  lad,  for  there  ain't  one  of  us   that    can't 
in  in  mighty  short  order.     With   thr- 
."  touching  one  of  the  rifles,  "  we  can  see  to  a 
HO*,  and  can  stretcli  the  longest  legs  you  ever 
an  iniiny.      And  we're   good    -u    scouting,  ami 
a  track,  and  sarcumvent  the  heathen  jist  as  well  as  we  can 
.invent   the  b'.-r  and   buttalo. —  And  we  will  sarvo  you,  cf 
ii  make  tarm*  <ip<m  it." 

•  adnsi't  the  prowess  of  the  white 
but  he  didn't  ..prebend  the  latter  part  of  what  was 

••  tanns." 

"Oh  !   don't  make  out  that   you're  HO  green  as  all  that  cmnc.- 
to.      You'\e   l-ccn   t:,i;ing  with  our  people,  and   ought  to  know 
what  we  mean  by  '  tanns.'      But,  ef  you  don't,  it's  only  to  n. 
it  el'ar  to  you  by  >  -icr  words.     .Tarms  is  condition- 

—  that  K  the  pay,  tin-  hire,  the  salary  —  what  you're  to  give  US 
for  helpi;  tin-    gal    hack,  sound    in  wind   and    limb,  and 

um>tance>.      X-i  cure,  no  pay  —  no  gal,  no  tarms." 

not  long  in  comprehending  the  suggestion.    He 

felt  the  importance  of  such  an  alliance,  and  well  knew  that  the 

istance    \\as   highly    valuable.      It    filled    him    with 

i -ordingly  as  liberal  as  the 

Vim-  in  his  gratitude  and  promises,  lie  had  deer,  and  bear, 
and  buiValo  skins,  which  were  all  at  the  service  of  his  allies,  if 
thry  wi-ir  Micrr.sxt'ul  in  the  chase. 

all  them'*  mi.  •  ;    hut  the  gal's  worth 

•  •at  deal  more.      Now,  youjitl  now  sp.-k«»  of  this  being  yoai 

Country.      \'A'  we  choB6(  'twould    he  migli  D  di>put«  that 

.  mcnt  ;    for  what  made  it  JIM:  iintry  than  mine?      It's 

all  (n.d's  country,  and  (J«»d  grants   no  pr'emptionfl  to  any  but  a 

I'll*.      The  heathen  die  out,  any  how,  some 

l>ut    1  won't   dispute  with   a  man  when  he's  in   a  peck  of 

troi;  e'll    leave    that    a:  \  er    tor    another   time. 

We'll  t ;.':  ..u'll  throw  in  ,-oine  riile-shots  of  land 

»ith  Vm,  woi.  so  be  we  g:ts  bari.  ,1  ?" 

Lncn.  ,  tired    some    1'uillu-i    oxplanations,   and    finally 


.HWAP.D    HO! 

ed  that   oui   pioneers,  if  successful  in  recovering  M  - 
•!J  have  as  much  territory  of  Omaha,  wherever  thev  I 
pleased  to  locate.  mid  shoot  round  in  a  day.     11  • 

not  calculate  the  number  of  acres  that  could  be  thus  covered  by 
a  score  of  long  Kentucky  rifles.  The  bargain  was  concluded. 
And  here  we  may  observe  that  such  leagues  were  quite  frequent 
the  earliest  periods  of  our  history,  between  the  red  mec 
and  the,  white  pioneers.  The  latter  most .  commonly  took  - 
with  the  tribe  with  which  they  hunted,  harbored,  or  trafficked. 
The  trappers  and  traders  were  alw.v.  *.o  lead  in  the  wars 

between  the  tribes,  and  their  presence  usually  determined  the 
contest.  They  were  in  fact  so  many  bold,  hardy,  fighting  men, 
and  were  always  active  in  the  old  French  war,  in  subsidizing 
the  Indians  for  their  respective  nations,  against  French  or  En 
glish,  as  it  happened.  Let  :liem  fight  as  they  pleased,  however, 
the  red  men  were  losers  in  the  end.  The  rifle  shots  invariably 

.Ited  in  the  absorption  of  their  acres.     But  the  bargain 
concluded,  and  the. supper.     The  squatters  leaped  to  their  feet, 
girded  themselves  up  for  travel,  reprimed  their  rifles,  an-. 
off,  under  the  guidance  of  Enemoya — now  refreshed  by  rest, 
and  a  new  stimulus  to  hope — to  recover  the  trail  of  the  fugitive 
Pawnees,  which  he  had  lost. 


CHAPTER     VII. 

WHILE  Eiiemoya  was  thus  strengthening  himself  for  the  pur 
suit,  passions  of  a  strange  and  exciting  character  were  slowly 
kindling  in  the  camp  of  the  Pawnees.  The  growing  sympathy 
which  Kionk  showed  for  the  beautiful  captive,  became  intelligi 
ble  to  his  comrades  a  little  sooner  than  to  himself.  They  had 
ao  such  feelings,  and  they-  were  a  little  resentful  of  his,  accord 
ingly.  B  i  of  his  companions  was  a  brother  to  on. 
his  many  wives,  and  was  particularly  watchful  of  those  peculiar 
weaknesses  of  his  kinbinan,  which  were  sufficiently  notorious 
among  his  people.  Like  Mark  Antony,  to  whom  we  have 
already  compared  him.  Kionk  had  too  tender  a  heart  —  he  was 
a  born  admirer  of  the  sex,  and  would  cheerfully  lose  the  world 
any  day  for  any  dusky  Cleopat;  companion* 
to  see  the  pro.  in  his  afiectiona, 


TBOUBI 

by  gravely  proposing  to  then  rested  in  cm;  ; 

hour t i 

M    not  qn 

-iiould   it   be  so.     It    wa> 
was  to  be 

.  lition   of  the   islet.     It 

alnmt  th 

The 
r-in  law  a  r:  — 

;  ared.  wh-  h  taken  the  oltl 

:  u-hind  L: 

was  a  pii/  ich  Kiouk  Ix-gun  to  xt-  that  be  was  sus 

pected.     But  he  was  a  bold  fell 

•ML     II     :i:>wered  with  equal  promptness  .and  de 
termination: — 

•mely.  a:. 
i«-f  among  the  I 

if    the  I'  -men  of  their  own,"  was  the 

•hose  of  the 
. 

the  bull    '.y   the    ii»rn-   at    That   iin»m. 

| 
And  ti. 

in-law    (i 

then   were,  and  th 
dt-r    ti 

umbrance;    w«>uM  to   turn    iijv.n   th.  : 

•   thru   ^tr  ,     impunity,   and    revenge 

assail- 

painful  rnplied 

with,    tln-y  would    N-    f n  •  'heir    sc:r- 

It    re<}uire<l   all    the   lo^:  -:>e   of    Ki»mk   to  silence 

rrihle  suggestion,  one  whir'.. 
stand   •  1  passion 

ful    and    daiigv: 


430  SOUTHWARD  HO! 

wit-h  all  but  liis  savage  brother-in-law,  lie  urge,!  that  the 
rifice  could  only  take  place  under  the  immediate  sanction  and 
sight  of  the  high-priest.  But  before  the  decision  of  his  com 
panions  could  he  made,  the  party  had  nearly  come  to  blow-,  In 
the  midst  of  the  discussion  between  Ki..;;k  and  his  kinsman,  and 
when  both  were  nearly  roused  to  madness  the  latter  sprang 
suddenly  upon  Missouri  —  who  had  tremblingly  listened  to  tin- 
whole  dispute — sei/.ed  her  by  her  long  black  hair,  whirled  her 
furiously  around,  and  actually  lifted  his  knife  to  strike,  before  any 
o£  them  could  interpose.  Then  it  was  that  the  whole  lion  nature 
of  Kionk  was  in  arms,  and  tearing  her  away  from  the  brutal 
sailant,  he  hurled  him  to  the  earth,  and,  hut  for  his  companions, 
would  have  brained  him  with  a  hatchet  on  the  spot.  But  he 
warned  him  with  terrible  eye,  as  he  sull'ered  him  to  rise,  that  if 
he  would  but  laid  his  finger  on  the  damsel  again,  he  would  hew  him  to 
pieces.  The  kinsman  rose,  silent,  sullen,  unsubdued,  and  secret ly 
swearing  in  his  soul  to  have  his  revenge  yet.  These  events  delayed 
the  party.  It  was  long  that  night  before  they  slept.  It  was  late- 
after  daylight,  next  day  —  before  the  journey  was  resumed.  This 
gave  new  opportunities  to  the  pursuers. 

It  was  not  difficult  to  retrace  the  steps  of  the  white  men, 
which  Enemoya  had  so  unwisely  followed,  until  he  reached  the 
point  where  he  had  turned  aside  from  the  true  object  of  puiv.it. 
To  this  the  squatters  themselves,  who  were  as  good  at  scouting, 
any  day,  as  the  red  men,  very  easily  conducted.  This  brought 
them  to  a  late  hour  in  the  night,  and  here  our  whites  proceeded 
to  make  their  camp,  though,  this  time,  without  venturing  to 
make  a  fire.  The  Omaha  chief  would  have  hurried  on,  but  his 
companions  very  cooly  and  doggedly  refused.  He  soon  saw 
the  wisdom  of  curbing  his  impatience,  not  only  because  of  the 
inflexibility  of  his  allies,  but  because,  as  they  showed  him.  his 
impatience  would  only  cause  him  again  to  ]nse  the  trail,  which  it 
was  not  possible  to  pursue  by  uiglu.  With  the  dawn,  however, 
the  whites  were  on  the  alert,  and  one  of  them  soon  appeared 
with  a  bead  in  his  hand,  the  certain  indication  of  the  damsel's 
route  and  providence.  Knemoya  readily  conjectured  the  | 
era!  direction  which  would  he  taken  by  the  Pawnees,  and  an 
occasional  bend,  ^I!--teniii^  upon  the  sandy  spots,  sufficed  every 
now  and  then  to  encourage  the  pur.M'eix  At  lhi>  period,  the 


W0c>:  431 

better     knu\\  It-dp-    of    tin-    countn      \  by     Enem- 

bled    hi*!  ;.n  oblique  cour-e   f,,r  the   head   ••! 

which    the    IV  •  •.•inpelled  to    piin 

ujM.ii     them,     i-norant     as     they     were    of     thi-     si, 
r<'Utf.      Thr  -  nee  dreamiiiir 

which  had  delayed   the  the    last    niirht.   the 

iia   ehief   with  •  tcdly   upon   them   about 

midday,     \\ln-n-.     Bqual  bi.-oklet,    they     were    taki- 

:'    re-t    and   a    little    :  nt       'V\n<   ])au-c    h.id    beoomi 

M        .iiri,    who,    with    incessant    travel,    and 

the    ten-Mr    of    t!i.-  ihc    previous     ni-lit.    had     sueeui;, 

and    actually    fainted   that    niornini:  aloni.'-    the    route.       Kionk    w;ix 
"lied    to   carry    her.    at     var;  .    in    his   arms  —  which 

i:d    \\ith    '  till    the  moment    when    the 

;>ped    for    noonim:   l)e-i«le    the    little    brooklet,    where    Kn- 
anil   hi-  \\hi:r  allies  canu-  upon  them. 

hut     not     taken     by    su: 

They    did    not    certainly    expect     to    he    overtaken,    but    they     had 
relaxed    in    none    t,f    their    vigilance,   ;;nd    their   scout    reported    the 
tore    the    latter    had    discovered    the    quarry.     The    Paw- 
were  M'ttini:   upon   the   ground,   sc.-itteivd   around  a  small  cir 
cuit.    MUsouri    in    the    c«-ntre  of  the    ^nuip.    re-tini:  aramM    a    tree. 
Hir    lonir    hair    v.as  dishevelled,   and   lay    heavily   upon   th 

-ad    and     anxioii-,    \\tary    and    without     hope;— SO 
:it    that    the    impuUcN  of    Km-ino\  a.    M    he    beheld 

her.  moment    the   better  Tudence,  and    he  ru-hed 

,;inur    lii>    \\ar    cry,   and    lM»uiulin.ir    forward 

with    uplifted    tomahawk.       It    \v;i<   \\ith    no    x,-ni|'u;.  ntle 

liand    that    the  elder  of    the   white  me:  him    in    hi-  -inewv 

and  drew   him  back  into  the  tlii 
With     the    signal    whi-tle   of    their   scout,    the    Pawnee    warriors 

D   their   l^gg,   eaeh   covering   him-elf  with   a  ; 
and  .|>iilly   -ln-t    into  th.  iiere    «.ur 

had     taken    harbor.        P>ut     t:,,y     were   a-   quick    an  . 
''-'•d     in     v\.-odcruff     as     the     i  atxl     lau-lied     at     this 

In     numbers    Hi,  •• ...   ^ll:l\\    ,,;irt\ 

Hieir    enemies    and     c..uld    I.  :whelmed    them    pr«.li:ilily    by 

;dden     ru>h     from  <.\,  ,-,.    \\arned 

Uijain>t     Mich     aud;u-it\     li\  the     dan-.-r     of     the    dU 


SOUTH  WAI:  i)    no! 

maiden,  who  was  seized  by  the  hair  by  one  of  Hiccup 
as  Knemoya  had  shown  himself,  while  a  knife  lifted  over  her  bo 
som  threatened  her  with  instant  death  at  the  Mrs!  demonstration 
of  attack.  Never  had  Kncinoya  before  found  himself  in  a  situ 
ation  in  which  he  was  so  little  capable  of  resolving  what  should 
be  done.  But  the  squatters  who  accompanied  him  wen-  , 
of  as  much  shrewdness  and  experience  as  daring.  While  they 
felt  that  confidence  and  boldness  were  prime  qualities  (.f  the 
warrior,  they  also  well  knew  that  rashness  and  precipitance 
would  be  fatal  to  their  object.  They  held  counsel  among  them 
selves,  never  consulting  the  red  chief,  though  he  stood  up  and 
listened.  The  Anglo-Norman  lias  profound  faith  in  parliaments. 
11  We  must  argyfy  the  case  with  these  red  devils,"  was  the  con 
clusion  to  which  they  came.  They  had  profound  faith  in  their 
ability  for  "  argymcnt."  The  result  of  their  deliberations  was 
to  send  forth  one  of  their  number,  accompanied  by  Kncinoya, 
bearing  a  white  handkerchief  at  the  end  of  his  rille,  and  a  long 
pipe  in  his  left  hand  —  both  signs  of  truce  and  amnesty  —  the 
calumet  that  of  the  red  men,  the  flag  that  of  the  white.  The 
object  was  to  ascertain  upon  what  terms  the  maiden  would  be 
given  up.  Of  course  they  did  not  know  what  issues  hung  upon 
her  fate,  or  what  was  her  destiny,  or  that  she  was  the  subject 
of  an  awful  oracle. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

AT  the  appearance  of  the  tlag  and  the  Omaha  chief,  Kionk, 
followed  by  three  others,  emerged  from  his  place  of  shelter. 
They  advanced  to  meet  the  Hag  without  apprehension,  though 
both  parties  kept  their  weapons  ready,  and  their  eyes  bright. 
Tivachery  i<  a  warlike  virtue  among  the  savages,  and  our  squat 
ters  well  understood  the  necessity  of  covering  an  enemy,  each 
with  his  ritle,  while  their  comrades  were  engaged  in  conference. 
How  shall  we  report  this  conference?  It  would  be  Impossible 
to  follow  step  by  step  the  details.  ;is  developed  in  the  broken 
Knglish  of  the  one  party,  and  the  half  savage  Pawnee  of 
the  other.  But  the  high  contracting  parties  contrived,  after  a 
fashion,  to  make  then.  paralcly  understood.  Our  squat 

ter  embassador  had    little   hesitation    in   coming  as  promptly   to  the 


THE    STUIFK    DKtiUN. 

point   as   p.  — ihle.     We  simi   up  much  in  little,  when  wo  report 
the  following  :  — 

1  "Taint  a  manly  way  of  carrying  on  the  war,  catching  a  poor 

y«ung  woman.     What's  tin-  sprint  of  a  man  t.»  lay  hands  upon  a 

:.'l    affection  ?      And   now  you've    got  her, 

that's  the  use  of  her  to  you  ?     You  have  plenty  of  gals  in  your 
own  nation.     What  do  you  want  with  this  Omaha?" 

The  Pawnee  acknowledged  that  his  people  were  hy  no  means 
wanting  in  specimens  of  the  tender  gender.     They  had  enough, 
yen  knows,  even  if  all  their  chiefs  were  of  the  Kionk  ten 

"  Well,  then,  let's  have  the  gal.  We'll  buy  her  from  you  at 
a  fair  vall\  ation.  What  do  you  say  now  to  half  a  dozen  toma 
hawk  two  little  hells,  a  pound  of  fishhooks,  four 
pounds  of  beads,  and  a  good  overcoat,  handsome  enough  fur  a  king." 

The  gonds  were  all  displayed.  Kionk  acknowledged  that 
the  oiVer  was  a  liberal  one.  Hut  —  and  here  he  revealed  the 
true  difficulty —  the  captive-girl  was  the  subject  of  an  oracle. 
The  fate  of"  Pawnees  or  Omahas  depended  14)011  her  lite.  She 
was  doomed  to  the  fiery  torture.  In  her  a>hes  la\  the  future 
triumph  of  his  pimple-  over  the  accursed  tribe  of  the  Omaha  ! 
There  could  be  no  trade;  no  price  could  buy  the  captive;  no 
P..W.M-  save  her  life;  he  would  forego  his  hold  upon  her  only 
with  his  own  life  ;  and  in  a  few  days  she  should  undeige  the 
torture  by  fire.  Such  was  the  final  answer. 

"  May  I  be  etarnally  burned  myself,  ef  I  stand  by  and  see  her 
burned:  M>  look  to  it,  red-skin  !  I'm  a  human,  after  all;  and 
my  ritle  shall  talk  like  blazes  before  you  take  her  ofi'!" 

The  conference  had  reached  this  point.,  and  K'n.nk  hail  been 
made  to  comprehend  the  fieively-e.\  preyed  declaration  of  the 
representative  M|uat!er,  when  Mi.^ouri.  arousing  from  her>tupor 
M  a  glimp-e  ..f  Kneu  ,.ya.  The  sight  seemed  to  restore  in 
stantly  her  strength  aim  energies.  With  a  single  bound,  and  a 
wild  ;  '<•  cry.  -In-  darted  suddenly  :  i  the  >avage 

who  sto.nl  over  her.  and  who  had  someuhat  relaxed  his  vigilance 
in    the   curiosity    which   he    felt    with    regard    to    the  confeiv. 
She  tlew.  rather  than  ran,  over  tl  which  lay  between,  and 

Enemoya  sprang  forward  t«  ber.     But  before  thev  could 

et.  a  blow  from  the  ;  •:,,•  layagei  felled  her  to  the 

10 


434  SOUTHWAUI)    HO! 

In  a  moment  the  work  of  death  had  begun.  The  hatchet  of 
Encmoya  cleft  the  skull  of  the  brutal  assailant.  Then  rose  his 
war-cry — then  came  the  fierce  shout  of  Kionk  and  the  rest. 
Every  arrow  was  drawn  to  its  head,  Every  rifle-bead  rested 
with  dead  aim  upon  the  tree  which  gave  shelter  to  an  enemy. 
The  charge  d'affaires  of  the  squatters,  quick  as  lightning,  tore 
the  white  kerchief  from  his  rifle,  and  dodged  into  cover;  \\hile 
Enemoya,  no  longer  capable  of  restraint,  dashed  forward  to 
gather  up  the  beautiful  damsel  from  the  ground  where  she  still 
lay,  stunned  by  the  blow  of  the  Indian.  But  he  was  not  per 
mitted  to  reach  his  object.  It  was  now  Kionk's  turn.  He  threw 
himself  into  the  path  of  the  young  chief  of  the  Omahas,  and  to 
gether  grappling  they  came  together  to  the  earth.  It  was  the 
death  grapple  for  one  or  both.  In  their  hearts  they  felt  mutually 
the  instinct  of  a  deadly  personal  hatred,  apart  from  that  whicl. 
belonged  to  their  national  hostilities.  Closely  did  they  cling ; 
sinuously,  like  serpents,  did  they  wind  about  each  other  on  the 
earth,  rapidly  rolling  over,  fiercely  striving,  without  a  word 
ken  on  either  part.  But  one  weapon  could  either  now  use,  and 
hat  was  the  scalp-knife  which  each  bore  in  his  belt.  But  to 
get  at  this  was  not  easy,  since  neither  dared  forego  his  grasp 
lest  he  should  give  his  opponent  the  advantage. 

M  < •;  nwhile  the  rest  were  not  idle.  The  Pawnees,  highly  ex 
filed  by  the  death  of  one  of  their  number,  and  seeing  but  two 
enemies  before  them — never  dreaming  that  there  were  no  h->s 
than  six  Kentuckians  in  ambush — darted,  with  terrible  yells, 
into  the  foreground.  Two  of  them,  in  an  instant,  bit  the  dust ; 
and  the  rest  recoiled  from  the  unanticipated  danger.  The  Ken 
tuckians  now  made  a  msh  in  order  to  extricate  Enemoya,  and 
lo  brain  Kionk  ;  and  the  aspect  of  affairs  was  hopeful  in  the  last 
degree  ;  when,  at  this  very  moment,  one  of  the  Pawnees  darted 
out  of  cover.  He  was  the  brother-in-law  of  Kionk  —  the  sullen 
chief  whom  he  had  overthrown,  and  whose  black  passions  medi 
tated  the  most  hateful  of  revenges.  Before  the  squatters  could 
reach  the  scene  of  action,  the  murderous  monster,  whose  purpose 
was  wholly  unexpected,  threw  himself  upon  the  crouching  Mis 
souri,  and  with  a  single  blow  buried  his  hatchet  in  her  brain. 
With  a  howl  of  mixed  scor.i  and  exultation  he  had  shrouded 
himself  in  the  woods,  and  among  his  comrades,  a  moment  after 


185 

'lie   horrid    stioko,  but. 
jiling  with  lii.-  illant  he  had    not    the  ; 

:riviiig  to  loose  hi:.  b€  gave  his  enemy 

{bt>  adv.,  tli  were  on  th  nd  Kionk 

idy  brandished   his  scalp-knife   in   his  gra>j>.      Hut  the 

vain  ih  a  blind  horn>r.      \\<  :i  the  whiz/ing 

seend,  crushing  into  tin  the  du>kv  beauty 

whom    lie    M    much    loved.      He  saw  no  more  ;    and  the  uplift  -d 

k  was  already  ab«.nt  to  .sheathe  itscdf  in  L 
D  a  rifle  bullet  in-m  one  i-i'  the  BqUAti  !.im  iveli: 

i»   the    !  f  death.     "NVhen  Kneu. 

•or   (laiiiM-l,  b.  already    -la/e<!. 

him  not.  .,ked  on  him  no  inor.-.      He  took  tU-  scalp 

x^nk,  but    it   gave   him    no   consolation.      He    fought    like  a 
•iew  man;.  .  -  took  m;;nv  scalps,      luit  m-ver 

i  whit  the  happier.     His  hope   was  blighted  —  he   l.ved  the 
<lu*k  .  1    i>let,  rnm-h  :  !erlv  tha; 

"in  the  manner  of  his  wnoing  :   and  la-  Q< 
98.     He    .  :iiong  his  pe.-ph-  ];; 

iid  they  called  him  the  ^ho>t  only  of  the  -Teat  warrior, 
ti^n    tl.-at    >ea.-on  \va>   in-iei-i.^ivo    between    the    rival 
I  Pawnee  aild  Omaha.      Neither   had  .-ucci-i-ded  iii 

tth  the  i-e(jui>itiun>  of  the  oracle.     The  Pawnee.s  had 

in  failing  to  bring  their  captive  to  t! 

i  lias    had    been    equally  unfortunate    in    being 

-trike    the    fn'st    Mow.      The  lir>t  life  taken  in   the 

bat  of  th< 

•'"I  whoi.  w.      \\i\l  the  cam) 

:     .    T    j  : 

"ill    of    Kneii.  to    exhibit    •] 

uhen    tl. 

••m   Kentucky  wer--  I  :iers 

that  dar!  Their  rilh 

••  ;    but  t!ic  hit;  ;.      The    rem. 

"''  I'  :    they  knew    not  where    to 

The  blfl  :id  was  a! 

i  their  ji.i.sse.vion.      Hut  f..r  ibis  there    sU,.  ,.,[  ft 

int. 

'I'it  ttan<  pk<  .    :  ,       D       ,,f  the 


SOUTHWARD  110  ! 

squatters,  looking  at  the  lovely  region  around-,  "it  seems  io  me 
to  be  good  if  we  drive  Makes  and  liuild  our  cabins  here  — here 
by  this  quiet  lake,  among  these  beautiful  meadows.  —  What  say 
you, — shall  it  be  here?  I  don't  want  to  go  further,  'till  it  come-  to 
be  crowded 

"  But  thi^  is  tlie  abiding  place  <>f  my  people,  my  brother:  —  here  is 
the  wigwam  of  Knemoya, — yonder  was  the  dwelling  which  1  built 
for  the  wife  of  my  bosom,  the  beausit'ul  Missouri." 

"Look  you,  Inimowya,"  answered  the  white  chief,  •'the  argv- 
ment  of  territory,  after  all,  lies  at  the  eend  of  my  rille.  As  I  told 
you  once  afore,  when  we  tir-t  met,  I  could  dispute  with  you  that 
pr'emption  title,  but  I  wouldn't;  and  I  won't  now;  considering 
that  you've  had  a  bad  time  of  it.  But  what's  the  use  of  your 
talking,  when  you  see  ihe  country's  got  to  be  ours.  Why,  you 
know  we  kin  shoot  round  it  every  day" — again  touching  his 
rifle. — "But  that's  not  the  argyment  I  want  to  use  with  you. 
Your  brown  gal,  who  was  a  beauty  for  an  Ingin,  I'm  willing  to 
allow,  is  a  sperrit  now  in  the  other  world.  What  sort  of  heaven 
they  find  for  the  red-skins,  is  unbeknowing  to  me;  but  I  reckon 
she's  living  tliar.  Thar's  no  living  for  her  hyar,  you  see,  so 
what's  the  use  of  the  cabin  you  built.  But  that's  not  to  say  I  wants 
to  drive  you  out.  By  no  pos-ible  means.  I  like  you  —  all  the  hoys 
like  \ou.  For  a  red-skin  you're  a  gentleman,  and  as  you  hev'  no 
nation  now,  and  hardly  any  tribe  of  your  own,  why,  squat  down 
with  us,  by  any  man's  li reside  you  choose,  and  ef  you  choose,  you  kin 
only  set  down  mid  look  on,  and  see  how  we'll  take  the  shine  out  of 
these  Pawnee  coek-a  doodles.  You  kin  share  with  u-.  and  do  as  we 
do,  with  all  the  right  nateral  to  a  free  white  man;  but  as  for  \our 
getting  tli is  island  from  us.  now  that  we're  all  reach"  to  plant  stakes, 
it'- a  matter  onpossible  to  be  argytied  except  with  the  tongue  of  the 
rille.  Thar's  no  speech  that  ever  was  invented  that  shall  make  us  pull 
up  -takes  now." 

And  the  rille  butt  came  down  heavily  upon  the  earth,  as  the  chief 
of  the  squatter-  declared  himself.  Knemoya  regarded  him  with  a 
grave  indiil'erence.  and  said  calmly:  — 

"  l'.e  it  so  ;  tin-  island  is  young  ;  the  country  !  Why  should  you  not 
have  it  ?  1  need  it  not  '  neither  I  nor  Missouri  !  I  thank  you  for 
what  V..M  say.  Bui  though  your  cabin  door  is  wide  for  my  coming,  I 
do  not  sec  .Mi--otiri  beside  the  hearth." 


0NL1    FOB   TIIK   UCUTG, 

"Oh  !  for  that  matter,  as  you  are  (jink:  a  ^enth-man  for  a  red- 
.-kin,  there's  many  a  pretty  white  gal  that  would  hev  you  toi 
the  axing." 

N     !   I  sliall  follow  my  peopb  to  the  black  prairies,  and  wait 
tor  the  vice  of  that  bird  of  the  Spirit,  that  shall  summon  me  to 

ippy  valley  where  Missouri  walks." 

••  \Vrll,  as  you  chouse,  Inimowya;  but  let's  to  supper  now 
and  you'll  sleep  under  my  bu^li  to  night." 

The  chief  Mirntly  consented.  Rut  at  the  dawn  he  was  no 
Tvhere  to  be  seen,  nor  have  the  him  .ers  ever  heard  of  him  since. 
Meanwhile  the  country  of  the  Omaha,  -which  includes  tl.i«j  lake 
nid  tiie  beau  iful  islet,  has  become  the  possession  of  the  pale- 
.  1  ut  they  call  it  stiil  after  th  j  dusky  damsel  of  Omaha.  tL-d 
lovely  and  lo  /ing  Missoui . 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

• 

"WHAT    CONSTITUTES    A    STA  i 

"  WE  arc  now  within  the  atmosphere  of  your  southern 
Hotspur."  said  our  Gothamite.  "Conic,  sir."  addressing  our 
cynical  orator  from  Alabama,  "come,  sir,  and  let  us  have  your 
portrait  of  the  South-Carolinian.  You  have  dealt  freely  with  Vir 
ginia  and  North  Carolina,  showing  us  their  more  salient  features. 
which  are  rarely  the  most  comely  for  boast  ;  let  us  see  if  you 
can  not  depict  their  southern  brother  with  as  five  and  dashini:  a 
pencil." 

The  Alabamian  smiled,  and  looked  to  .Miss  Burroughs,  as  lie 
replied  :  — 

"I  dare  not  :  in  tliis  instance  there  is  a  lady  in  the  0886." 

"Oh!  most  unlooked-for  and  most  unseasonable  gallantry!" 
exclaimed  the  lady.  "Do  you  forget.  Sir  Orator,  those  wicked 
and  scandalous  ballads.  u>  the  grievous  disparagement  of  the 
which  you  not  only  sail-;-  to  us  of  your  own  motion,  a  volunteer  per 
formance,  but  which  you  saii.u'  with  such  unction  and  effect,  a*  if  the 
;  it  ion  were  a  M'l-t  of  labor  of  love,  which  you  would  not  escape, 
•  •veil  if  you  miirht 

"Ah  !  forgive  the  offence.      It  was   in   evil   mood   that  1  saiu 
not  because  of  any  love  for  the  subj 

"  lie's  been  kicked,  I  reckon,  by  -oine  lady  only  t'other  da\ 
the  Texan,  roughly,    "and   the  shins  of  his  atlcctions  are  still  x.re 
with  the  In 

"The  shins  of  his  affections  :  That  is  surely  QCW.  What 
admirable  cropping,  in  the  way  of  metaphor  and  tiinire.  mi-lit 
our  VOUIILC  ballad-mon;^ -rs  find  in  the  fields  '  Well, 

I    will    submit    to    the    imputation    of    the    recent   kid  D  ac- 

knov.led:  :  I'm-    merits    of    that    phra  '  The  shins  of    the 

! '       We    shall    in-.\t    iiear  something    touching,     'the    ten- 


SCKiTLL>  OP  Tin:  nijATOR.  188 


derness  of  the  corns  .»n  tin-  big  toe  of  the  In-art.'     When  shall 
• 

a  matters  of  more  than  fifty-five 
i  \  .     \v.  ..in  Elemans,  and  a  Texan  Tennyfoo 

—  nay,  we've  got  three  Teimysons.  ami  more  than  thirteen  Hy- 
Oli  !  we  are  not  so  badly  off  for  poets  as  y<m  think.      In 
a   p(iet  who  weighs   more   than   two   hundred 
and  -  unds,  and  he  :  t  love  poetry  enough  to 

fill  the  sails  of  a  California  clipper.      It's  the  opinion  of  BOH 
our  people  th  e  ni">t  of  our  wm-thies  to  his  love   p< 

6   into  th.  i  since  Tenny>'»n's  •  I:i 

.'•riam,'  he  has  d..ne  nothing  hut  write  '  In  Memoriams.'    lift 

has  mourned  the  loss  of  more  dear  friends  since  the  date  of  that 

:i,  than  he  ever  knew  people.     In  fact,  not  to  be  irirv- 

:    poetry,  there's  hardly  a  person  in  all  T- 

that  would  lend  him  a  picayune,  though  it  should   save  his  soul 
:he  gall* 

.e  his  snul  from  the  gallows!      A  new  idea  of  the  punish 
ployed  in  Tophet.      Fancy  the  soul  of  a  poet  weighing 
hundred  and  eighty  pounds  hung  up  to  dry  in  the  de 

"  Hut  all  this  talk,"  interrupted  the  son  of  Gotham,  "must  not 
18  of  our  portrait  of  the  South-Carolinian." 
;    no   Mich   portrait  from   me,"  answered   the  Alaba- 
mian,  abruptly. 

i  why  not?"  interrupted  the  North-Carolinian.  "You 
had  no  scruples  in  dealing  with  the  Old  D  .minion  and  the  olJ 
North  St.- 

•A  liy   I  should  hav« 

when  we  come  to  f  n-olina.      I  ki.  ults  ami 

the  foihlo  of  (hat  little  ••:  >on  in  this  en 

and   I  am  as  well    able.   I    rerk-.n,  to   d.^nihe    them.      Hut  I  will 
not.      In  the  first   place,  I   i»ok  to  that  same   t( 

I  •'.•'.'.    ;:.«'  fji-.st  to  dare 

<•    tin1    Btl  '    eomes,  and    I  will   in   no  wav 

ho\\«       .  ken  her  hands  by  dig. 

her  featr.  '        Hun.mghs  —  this  to  you  — 

[  owe  my  mother  to  South  Carolina,  and   the   cradle  which   haj 


440  SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 

rocked  a  mother  should  be  an  ark  of  the  covenant  to  a  loving 
son." 

Our  Alabamian,  by  showing  himself  sentimental  for  a  single 
moment,  had  once  more  put  himself  within  the  pale  <>!'  the  vul 
gar  humanity.  It  was  very  clear  that  we  should  get  nothing 
further  out  of  him  on  the  one  subject.  Our  North-Carolinian 
endeavored  to  supply  the  desired  portrait,  but  the  limning  w.vi 
contradictory  —  in  fact,  the  moral  portrait  of  South  Carolina  is 
one  of  many  difficulties,  which  it  requires  a  rare  and  various 
knowledge,  and  no  small  skill  of  the  artist  to  manage  and  over 
come  :  and  gradually,  the  embarrassments  of  the  subject  wore 
felt,  as  the  discussion  of  her  traits  proceeded,  and  the  subject 
was  finally  abandoned  as  one  totally  unmanageable.  Of  course 
much  was  said  of  her  luxury,  her  pride  and  arrogance,  her  pre 
sumption  in  leading,  the  vanity  of  her  boasts,  her  short-comings 
m  a  thousand  respects ;  all  of  which  provoked  keen  retort,  par 
ticularly  from  our  secessionists  —  the  Alabamian  scarcely  seem 
ing  to  heed  the  controversy,  and  taking  no  part  in  it  till  its  close 
when  he  said  briefly  :  — 

"One  word,  gentlemen.  South  Carolina  is  the  only  staU 
in  the  Union  which  grants  no  divorce.  If  there  were  nothing 
else,  in  the  catalogue  of  her  virtues  to  show  the  character  of  In  i 
virtues,  this  would  suffice.  It  says  two  things.  It  declares  for 
the  steadiness  and  constancy  of  both  sexes,  and  for  the  virtues 
that  render  such  a  measure  unnecessary.  Her  morals  prevent, 
instead  of  pampering,  the  caprices  of  the  affections — " 

"  Yes,  but  there  are  some  crimes  !  It  would  be  monstrous  to 
keep  parties  fettered,  one  of  whom  is  a  criminal " 

"  I  understand  you  !  They  do  nut  keep  together.  In  Caro 
lina,  in  all  such  eases,  the  criminal  dies  —  disappears,  at  al? 
events,  and  the  social  world  never  mentions  again  the  name  of 
the  offender." 

"  Very  Roman,  certainly." 

The  Alabamian  did  not  heed  the  sneer,  but  proceeded  — 

"  South  Carolina  is  the  only  state  in  which  there  is  anything 
like  loyalty  to  the  past  remaining.  She  preserves  her  venera 
tion.  The  state  is  protected  from  the  people." 

"  How  is  that?     Is  not  the  state  the  people." 

"  No!  very  far  from  it.     The  state  is  a  tiling  of  thousandb  of 


THi:    STATK  1 1 1 

^,  pMit  «nd  future,  constituting  ;i  moral  which  .  ived 

from  tlic    caprices   «)f  the    people.      People  change  daily,  and  i:i 
their  <!aily  change,  filled  with  novel  hopes  and  e\j  .and 

passions   and   desires,  would   easily  : 

thousand  alisilnte  :is  which  iu»   pe.iple  at  any  one    I 

sufficiently  values.  In  truth,  it  is  only  when  we  tremlde  ftj 
onward  and  reckless  course  of  a  majority,  that  \\  e  are  awakr 
to  the  fact  that  there  are  some  things  which  they  have  no  rj 

orifice,      It  is  then  that  we  see  that  the  p  1  a- 

cumulations  of  tlie  past  are  not  an  inheritance,  hut  a  trust  ;  an<i 
we  wlio  occupy  only  a  moment  of  time,  in  the  general  pr«_ 
of  the  ages,  are  taught  hy  this  fact  that  we  have  n<»  ah.-nluto 
rights  over  ]m<s«--<ions  which  helong  to  generations  yet  untold 
in  the  future,  and  hut  partially  recorded  in  the  past.  To  guard 
the  state  from  the  people,  we  resort  to  a  thousand  devices,  such 

•  nstitntions,  hills  of  rights,  &c.,  none  of  which  is  satisfactory 
for  the  sufficient  reason  that  the  suhject  is  one  of  singular  suhtilty 
which   escapes   practical  definition.     It   is,  however,  within  our 
instincts  and  these  work  in  a  thousand  ways,  and  in  spite  of  u>, 
for  its  preservation.     When   the^e  fail  us,  the  state  is  gone,  and 
the  people  soon  follow.     They  are  then  without  God  or  country. 
The  French    revolution  was  an   instance  of  the  sacrifice  of  the 
Mate  —  that  vague  and  vast  idea,  growing  out  of  the.  gradual  ac 
quisitions  of  thousands  of  years  of  a  common  fortune  in  the  fam 
ily,  «»r  race  —  hy  a  mere  generation  just   passing  off  the  stage. 
I.->"k  at  the  .-summary  in    France  to-day.     Where  is  the  liherty 

•  •quality,  the    repuhlicanism,  which    were   all   their   avowed 
•1-jects  ?      What   is  left  them  of  i-acred  tradition,  of  past  loyalty 

acquisition,  of  moral  security  —  which  must  precede  if  it 
»vouhl  maintain  physical — of  all  that  was  deemed  certain  in  the 
Hiaractrristics  of  the  race  !  The  guardian  securities  and  vi 

f  :\  pe.ijile  lie  in  that  .social   ideal  which  is  emhodied    in  tin- 
':  in  i.f  the  .-tale  as  a  thing  permanent,  contradistinguished  from 
a  mere    generation    or   government  —  things  which    contemplate 
..;dy  pa-siiii:  necessities,  and    continual    fluctuations,  and   a;< 
•juired  to  contrihute  in    pa^lnu-  «.nly  a  certain  portion  of  capital 
lo  that    grand    stock    which    has   l.een    already  put   aw 

rithin  the  securities  of  the  ideal  state.      The  stat- 

and  the  conservative    check   upon  the  caprices  of   tune 


•-v  BO.l  T11WA1M)     lio! 

The  state  represents  the  eternity  of  a  race— its  whole  duration 
whether  long  or  short.  Cut  the  sinews  of  the  state,  in  obedience 
to  the  eaprices  of  a  generation  and  they  must  perish.  All  this  is 
very  obscure,  I  know,  and  it  can  not  very  well  be  Otherwise,  with 
such  a  subject,  and  in  a  mere  casual  conversation  It  must  nec 
essarily  elude  all  common  demonstrative  analysis,  particularly 
as  it  lies  based  on  great  but  mysterious  see-rets,  in  the 
plan  of  Providence,  which  it  is  scarcely  permitted  to  us  to  explore. 
The  subject  belongs  to  the  spiritual  nature  in  high  degree  and 
is  not  to  be  measured  by  the  common  rules  of  argument.  It 
constitutes  a  study  for  the  metaphysician  who  is  at  the  same 
time,  a  religious  man.  It  is  one  of  those  problems  which  the 
rulers  of  a  people  have  need  carefully  to  study,  as  it  is  upon  the 
due  knowledge  and  appreciation  of  'the  state,'  that  even  peo 
ple's  future  must  depend.  Nations  perish  really  because  of  their 
simple  failure  to  recognize  this  distinction  between  state  ;md 
'people:  and  it  is  thus  that  a  capricious  generation,  perpetually 
bent  on  change,  restless  and  impatient  because  of  its  atrocious 
vanity,  still  wrecks  all  the  ideal  morals  of  their  ancestor- 
all  the  hopes,  born  of  those  ideals,  which  would  conduct  their 
posterity  to  power." 

"  I  confess  this  transcendentalism  is  quite  too  much  for  me.  I  do 
not  see  the  meaning  yet  of  your  distinction.  It  appears  to  me  only  a 
dreamy  sophism." 

"Precisely,  and  if  you  will  show  me  the  man  to  whom  a  met 
aphysical  subtilty  is  for  the  first  time  presented,  who  is  prepared 
on  the  instant  not  only  to  argue  it  but  to  judge  it,  1  shall  be 
willing  to  attach  some  importance  to  your  present  cavalier  diV 
missal  of  the  topic.  Your  process  seems  to  be  that  of  one  of  our 
western  members  of  Congress,  who,  some  year*  I  n  his 

speech  with,  'I  don't  know  nothing,  Mr.  Speaker,  of  the  sub 
ject  liyar  before  us.  but  I  intend  to  go  00  arirvfx  inir  is  ontil  I 
gftC  all  the  necessity  knowledge.'  Hut  even  lie,  bold  and 
brave  and  candid  as  he  was,  never  ventured  to  decide.  1! 
proposed  to  use  'argyment'  as  a  means  of  getting  his  •  edica- 
tion.'" 

"  Why,  \  ou  are  perfectlv  savage." 

"No;  ^arching  only.  —  To  resume  our  subject  for  a  moment 
longer.  There  is  a  passage  fnun  one  of  our  southern  poets,  who 


Tir  :i:. 

has  .MI  !i  -it i' 

l.)  my  .,\\n  mind.      Likr  all  others,  who   have  §pO 
\\ritten  .Hi  tin-  jr.int,  tho  subtilty  still  eludes   him;    hnl 
cuo! :.  |  to  irive  the  cdues  into  the  hands  of  the  metaphy 

.Mi-i;ui  ;  and   no  ot!  Q,  by  the  way,  has  any  right  to  pas* 

upon  it." 

••  1.  .ige." 

The  Alabamian  delivered  it,  from  memory,  to  the  following 
•  :— 

"THE    STATE. 

Die  moral  of  tin'  ru-c-  is  in  tln>   Statf. 

vrhijimoMt, 

Throii.'.'li  countless  ^oiii-rations  : —  all  tho  hopog 
Tli-  Mihition,  tin-  proud  works, 

Virtues,]  Iret  and  ili-t-di, 

\Vitl; 

.  tlint,  still  apart 
Finni  th.'  nnlo  liiJtiei-r  of  tlio  multirudc, 

;  lir.'<,  luiilt  nlt:i;  -  11  tin-  (i<nl 

Dial  niak.  1  iil«  al :  —  which,  unknown 

.  th(>  thoii"::  -  .-onccivo 

In  H  !>lir,d  \\(1rs!iii>;    which  is  still  content 
To  follow  Duty  thrmiiih  tho  honds  of  ten'or, 
And  learq  its  host  ohtMlicnro  through  its  fear* 

.i.-'a  tlio  pmwth 

Of  the  greut  family  of  a  thousand  yi-ar*, 
With  all  III  •:.miiiiity  of  thoughts, 

iith,  and  annHrm'-nts,  us  w»-ll 
As  its  mntorinl  tn  •-•;-.      The*    nr<>  naught, 
tf  th:*  tin-  faith,  th^  virtue?,  and  tho  will, 
Bo  lacking  to  tin-  n.c«-.      Tlit-  puai'iinn  state 

ai"  not  yo4)  •*, 
Or  miuo  *,   nor  <\n  tln-y  rest  within  tho  churso 

Of  -' -    it  tin-  common  cri*>, 

Of  nil  »!;•  ••  with     ••, 

ty  yarn  of  march.      We  ur*.  nut 
in  H  lo;n;-t)niidi>d,  n:  -nck, 

Branching  and  S|H.';I  :  side, 

and  aim, 

R-.i!'  "f  oin-  tril>o», 

K 

•-iprifl^— 

-H*, 


Ml  BOUTHWABDj    !!<>! 

Thul  are  si  ill  jrarnered  safely  ill  the  state, 
Our  march  makes  little  in  tin-  errand  design, 
Save  as  a  natural  incident  that  yrows, 
Inevitably,  out  of  natural  progress, 
Leavinir  il>  moral  in  its  \  cry  l<  CB. 
<  Mr  change  must  work  no  changes  in  the  state. 

Which  still  maintains  the  original  ideal  -zenn, 

Sacred  within  its  keeping,  a^  the  Romans, 

The  sacred  shields  that  fell  to  them  from  Heaven; 

As  in  all  nations  there  are  fabled  treasures, 

Shrined  awfully  apart,  to  which  men  look, 

For  safety,  when  the  temple  rocks  in  lire, 

And  the  walled  city  totters  in  the  storm. 

—  March  as  we  may  and  govern  as  we  may, 

Change  with  what  sad  or  wild  caprice  we  may, 

The  indisputable  majesty  which  makes 

The  sovereignty  which  harbors  in  each  race, 

Knows  never  ehaiijre  of  attribute,  till  ends 

The  mission,  which  the  endowment  still  declares!" 

The  orator  paused. 

"Is  that  all?  Why,  we  are  no  nighcr  to  the  solution  of  the 
problem  than  before." 

"I  suppose  not.  Poetry,  the  profoundest  of  all  human  studies, 
itself  requires  the  abstract  mind  and  the  contemplative  m<»i>d; 
and  the  necessity  for  these  is  the  greater  when  it  deals  in  meta 
physics  and  politics.  Perhaps,  it'  you  weigh  well  this  p; 
you  will  gradually  see  the  light  through  the  cloud  and  curtain. 
Precious  things  rarely  lie  upon  the  surface.  In  proportion  to 
the  glory  is  the  necessity  of  obscuration.  (lod  showed  himself 
to  the  Jews  only  through  clouds  and  fire.  They  could  see  him 
only  through  some  material  medium.  It  was  the  poet  prophet 
only  who  could  discover  his  awful  features  through  lesfl  terrible 
agen, 

"You  are  getting  more  and  more  obscure.  Now,  pray  tell  us, 
what  have  all  y<-ur  metaphysics  to  do  with  South  Carolina?" 

"Nothing,  that  I  can  show  you,  unless  you  can  take  the  first 
step  with  me  — which,  as  yet,  you  can  not.  It  may  be  enough 
to  say  of  South  Carolina,  that,  it  i-  a  BUffidenl  m»  ril  of  li- 

•!iat    her    revolutionary    spirit    (80   called)   has    been    the 
Of    her    ION  ally;     that    it    was   to   check    revolution    thai    Bhfl 
interposed     the     state    veto.i'iid     tlir*  \v    down    her    gauntlet     to    fed 
eral   usurpation.     You  all    feel   and   sec,    now.   that    she  was  right. 


SOUTH     i   A  l;nl.i  N  A.  1  r> 

arc  all  in  posse-sion  of    five  trade  ;ui«l  r.  j 
tin-  result  of    her  course,  which    leave-;  the  c<>n<lili.>n  of  t!ic  country 
unexampled    in    history    for    it-    growth    an«l    prosperity.      Her   c<»n- 

itism.   not    her   re  olution,    prompted    h,  r    aetjoii;    :,n.! 
adhere-    to  h    •  ;tive    tendencies,    while    all   other 

rocking  with  the  conllict  of  revolutionary  idea-.     Sin-  still 
her  veneration.      There  an- still  many  da—  e-  \\  ithin   her  limits,  who 
maintain    the    moral-    of    her  da\\  n  -    who   seek    to    pi  ,<  red 

that    capital  of    ideal    in    the   -tate   whi<  h,  kept    always   in  vieu 
iruidinur  liiiht,  renders   i  ,1  development,  .-.ml 

not  an  inane  and  in-ane  coiir-iiiLr  in  a  circle  where  we  tor   . 
in  conflict  with  one  another.      Hi  re  you  find,  still  of   !  man 

ners  and  cu-tom-,  the  sentiments  and    traditions,  that  she  held   to  be 

,t    and    glorious   ei-hty  year-  a.Lfo  ;  and  which   have  enaMed    her, 

thoui:h  one  of  the  smalle-t  state-  in  ffie  confederacy,  to  contribute 

a    larire    pniportion   of    it-   -reate-t    uarri'T-.    its    no!.le-t   and   W 

<  s.  its  purest  and  mo-t  \eiieratrd  men.  YOU  can  not  hully  In  r 
out  of  her  propriety,  t'.,r  -he  has  un-haken  O  ;  can  not 

huy  her  with  any  hrihe.  for  she  has    al\\ay>   sliown    !,  rnful 

of  cupidity.      She    maintain-  still  the  hauuhty  -eiilimeiil-  of   a  r., 

•leiuen  wlio  iie\er  de-( ended  toineaime-s.  She  has  a  thoii-and 
foihles,  fault-  —  ii.,y,  1'ollii-.  —  prrhapv.  l,ut  -he  ha-  -«.nie  virtues 
which  power  can  not  cru-h  mil  of  her,  or  money  liny;  and  -he  will 
he  the  state,  let  me  tell  \ou,  who  will  save  all  that  i-  \\orth  saving 
in  thi-  i-iuil'i-.j.  11  when  the  contedrrae\  it-elf  JMTJ- 

"  Why.  old  lila-t."  interpo-id   ih.-  Texan,  "you  must  IH- thinking 
that  you're  on  thr  -tuni]..      You  do  put  your  horns  into  the  ho\\  - 
the  ar-umeiit.  ju-t    a-   if  you   knew  \\hen-  Qg    all    the 

time.     Lord.  li<.\\  Sam  llou-t..n  would  lauirh  if  you  was  to  \,-\\  I, 
such  prophe<  ie-  as  that." 

m    lion-ton'     Sir.  don't  -peak   to  nu-  of   Sam  Hou-toii.      11,'- 
•  nd   the   reach   "I"   prophecy,  which  Miv^.d   loan'-  hut 

livii, 

"Well.    I    mu-t    say  tliaf-  a  -ettler    for    8am.       i'.ut    he'll    take    the 

<  han-e  out  of  you.  I  nckon,  \\  hen  he  c  -.  .inex  to  be  president     You'll 

nevei-    M-,-t   a   foreiL-ii    appointment    fiom    him.  I'm  a-lhinkiiur:  and  I 
reck- Hi  Sam'-  chance  for  tl,  dimit   as  good 

any  man  i:oi: 


SOUTHWARD   liu  !  1  1»; 

We  put  in  here,  several  of  us,  to  arrest   the  partisan   tendency, 
of   the   discussion,  which   evidently   began   to  - ••me  of   the 

parties;    and  our   excellent   captain  came  to  our  Bfl  •  ith  his 

jest  and  smile,  liis  «|uip  and  crank,  which  have  always   pr« 
effective  in  curing  the  uniJ,i<lit  <!//  ///,/•  amon-  hi-  i 

"Tin  president  here,  g<  ntlcmen."  said  lie.  "and  1  hold  it  to  be 
good  law  to  declare  that  it  is  high  treason  to  discus-*  the  sue- 
cession.  As  then-  i-  -onie  talk  of  appointment-.  I  i  that  if 

any  of  you  want  ollice,  the  governorship  of  Hull's  is  vacant." 

And  he  pointed  us  to  the  island  of  that  name  which  made  the  rim 
of  the  horizon  for  us  on  the  north. 

"There  is  an  island,  gentlemen,  upon  which  a  man  might  be 
a  sovereign.  Solitude  in  perfection,  game  in  abundance,  line  fish 
of  all  sorts,  oysters  to  beguile  even  an  alderman  to  lleshly 
and  fishy  inclination  —  such  a  realm  as  would  satisfy  Alexander 
Selkirk,  and  make  Robinson  Crux.e  dance  with  delight.  1  have 
often  thought  of  Bull's  as  an  island  upon  which  a  man  might 
be  at  peace  with  all  the  world,  and  with  fortune  and  him 
particular," 

"  A  sort  of  heaven  on  earth." 

"And  sea.  It  has  a  fine  harborage  too.  The  coast  survey  has 
made  it  a  harbor  of  refuge,  and  we  are  soon  to  have  a  light-house 
upon  it." 

"The  pirates  knew  it  as  a  place  of  refuge  a  hundred  years 
ago  and  more.  Here  Robert  Kidd.  'ft8  lie  sailed.1  and  that  more 
monstrous  rullian  Blackbeard,  and  a  hundred  other  fierce  out 
laws  of  the  same  practice,  found  their  place  of  refuge  and  rol 
licking.  Nor  here  alone:  all  the  range  of  inlands  which  run 
along  the  coast,  between  which  and  the  main  there  are  numerous 
islets  of  great  beauty  and  interest,  are  distinguished  by 
traditions  of  wild  and  sometime-  terrible  attraction.  Many 
of  these  have  been  marked  as  spot-  conspicuous  in  history, 
and  all  of  them  possess  their  legend-  and  chronicles,  \\hich 
only  need  to  lie  limited  up  and  put  on  record,  to  render  all  of 
them  classical  and  interesting,  apart  from  their  natural  attrac 
tion-.  The  \\hole  of  this  region  was  the  favorite  resort  of 
thr  pirates,  and  at  periods  long  anterior  to  the  Revolution, 
-  those  periods  when,  as  the  jiiirax-  ran  through  the  marine' 


TII  i:  ri  i;  -1  1"! 

of    Gn  '•    the    line        !:, 

found 
ir,    the 

white    sails  of    the    fair   trader.     Tln-n     In-     darted    forth    like    the 
a    little    !  k    upon    tlie    water-,    and    tOTO  hi-  victim 

with    anirry    ami    remorse!.  .    the-    blue    \va' 

liiirried    back   t.i  divide  and  to  hide 

il;  and    dark    and    terrible    are    ih,  rie-  which, 

could    they    -peak,  they    iniuht     narrate    of    tin-    wild    orirics  of    the 
cruel    band-    l>y    which    they    were   infe-ted  —  of    the   b! 

.  hich  they  witn  ,d    of  the   fate  of  the  victims  guilty 

of    the    inexpial  .hich     their 

d.      Youi._  miM     be     fed.    and     the 

of    the    M-a    are    provcrliially    the    11;  '  -u<    of    all    the 

trilM-.       Th-  merdleeB.       They     b  ;'"Ut    the    mouth 

,n    for    km  in    vain    that    ! 

kept    watch    with    her   frigates    and    .iruarda    co-ta>  for    the    prolcc- 
:    her    trade.      Her    wealth,   as    a    colony.    wa>    at    that    time 
superior    to  mot    of    the  colonies,   and    demanded   powerful   ; 

t,    so   keen  of    -iuht.  ><>  lierce  of  appetite, 
marauding    wn-tchc-.    that    they   too   commonly  • 
pursuit,  and    not    on!  d  in  capturing    the   outward-bound 

continually,  but   sometimes  laid  the  infant  city.  it>clf,  under 
eontribut: 

.!•    friend     t'nun     North    Carolina    ha-    In-stowed    upon   u-  a 

yen      :  narrative    of    the    •  Sliij  The    tradition 

is  \\ell    known    in    portions    of   South    Carolina;     and    to    thi-    day 

certain     f.-iimlu-     are    pointed     out    a>     the     dt-cendant-     of    tho-e 

cruel    mariner-    wh«>    >o    mercilessly    slau  iat    little    colony 

man    palantines.     Our    traditions    i>oint    out    the   ]>roLreny    of 

still    under     the    avePLriiiL:   danger   of     tin 

by    continuous  The    favorite    son 

-in    son^-   terrible    accident,    in  the  moment   of   h! 

the    favorite    daULrhtcr    v,  ; 
sumption    or  some    namel.  ju-t   a-  -he  enter-  that   ' 

when    the    ii  inks    to    place    \\ithin     her  hair   the 

bridal    il»wi  i       Tin  ir    head.-   and   look  know- 

Alien    the  .  lenly    upon    those  families,  and 

1  It     in;.  i 


11*  SOUTH  W  A  1M>    lid  ! 

must  have  their  prey.  Tlie  Mood  of  that  massacre  must  be 
washed  out  in  blood.  All  these  families,  tin-  deeendanls  of  the 
murderers  ,,,ust  <tje  ()U(>  till  not  one  man-child  shall  survive.' 
Their  ill-gotten  wealth  does  them  no  good.  Their  fruits  turn  to 
ashes  on  their  lips.  The  sword,  suspended  by  a  single  hair,  lianas 
for  ever  over  their  heads,  ami.  the  holt  strikes  them  down  from 
the  bosom  of  an  unclouded  sky.  So  well  lias  tradition  retained 
these  memories  that  people  will  even  give  you  the  names  of  the 
families,  still  living,  over  which  this  terribly  unerring  destiny 
impends.  I  have  had  one  or  more  domestic  chronicles  of  this 
sort  put  into  my  possession  within  the  years.  Of  coiir-r.  the 
doomed  victims  have  no  sort  of  knowledge  either  of  the  fates 
d  for  them,  or  of  the  familiarity  of  their  neighbors  with 
the  unwritten  tradition.  Old  people  point  them  out  to  their  chil 
dren  ;  they  repeat  the  story  to  their  sons,  and  their  tinkers  point 
always  to  the  illustrative  catastrophe.  Every  stroke  of  1V<  vidence 
is  keenly  observed  and  dwelt  upon  which  touches  them;  and  it 
may  be  safely  allinned  that  the  tradition  will  survive  them  all.  and 
point  to  the  grave  of  the  last  supposed  victim  of  a  crime  committed 
two  hundred  years  ago  or  more." 

"  1  low  very  terrible  I  " 

"These  several  islands  which  we  approach  after  Bull's,  Dew 
Caper's,  Long,  and  Sullivan,  and  the  islets  which  lie  within,  be 
tween  them  and  the  main,  are  all  thus  fruitful  in  ancient  pirate 
legends.  One  of  these  occurs  to  me  at  this  moment  ;  and.  as  I 
believe  I  am  the  next  person  chronicled  on  your  list  for  a  story,  I 
ma\  B8  well  pursue  the  vein  upon  which  we  have  struck,  as  it  were, 
by  chance." 

•'  <  >.  let  us  have  it.  by  all  mean-.  I  COnfeflfl  to  a  passion  for  such 
:-tories,  which  even  the  reading  of  the  Hook  of  the  Buccaneer^  has 
not  totally  overcome." 


THE  STORY  OF  BLACKBEARD. 
I. 

"Tm-;  narrative."  said  our  raconteur,  "which  I  am  about  to 
give  you.  w.-iv  n-lateci  to  me  by  one  of  our  oldest  inhabitants,  a 
planter  who  is  still  living  at  the  advanced  period  or  ei-i,!\  \c-ars, 


P.I.  \«  CBBABD. 

and    who    ranks    not    le--    venerably   fnun    worth    than    airf.       II- 
heard  it   fr«>in  th<>«-  who  claimed    to   have    known    p<  T-onali 
of    tin-    partic-    to    the    hi-tory,    and    who  fully    believed    the   truth 
of    tin-    story  which  they  told.       Tin-  period  of    the    narrati\ 
perhaps  a  i|Ua:  ,'    \  olutioii. 

•i  :nv  all    auare  that   from   ]•  •".  usini:  round  num- 

:ie  buccaneer-,    leagued    of    all    nations,   no    longer   confining 
Ivefl     t"    the    Spanish    galleons,   which  were    always    held     to 
l>e  fair  prey  to  the   Briti-h  cruNers   made  the  commerce  of  Britain 
finally    their    prey,    and    literally    haunted    with    daily   ter 
ror-    the   coa-t-   of    Virginia   and    the    two  Carolinas,    as  well    :is 
tin     \V.-t    Indies    makimr    spoil  of    their    rich   and     but    lit! 

production^       Their   crew-,    composed    of    the   scum    of    all 

nations—  BrinMi.     French,     Dutch,     Portuguese,     and    Spaniards  — 

di><  riniinated    in    In-half    of    none:    and    -  BritMi  and 

Ameri(  an    morals  at  that   period  —  (have  they   very  much  improved 

—that      the      people      of        the      province-      themselves  — their 

ally  inclined    to    countenance    the 

'  "ITUption      of      t'reel teixi      ill      all      tin- 

where  they  Ihem-ehev  were  not  the  immediate  -iill'm -r<. 
Tiny  drove  a  protitalile  trade  with  the  marauder-,  who  were 
sometime^  to  In-  >een  walkini:  the  >in-et>  of  the  Atlantic  cities 
with  the  ii;  •  impunity.  Captain  Kidd.  for  a  Imij:  time, 

\\a-    the    Livat     ina-ter  -pirit     of     the-e    wretche-.       Hi-    successor    in 
audacity,    in-oleiiee.     and    crime.    wa<     the     infamous     Blackheard, 
J    which    he    pn  fern  d    that   the  world    ,-hould 

read   his  character.      Hi-  proper  name.  Kdward   Teach,  was  in  it-elf, 
innocent  enough. 

11  Blarkl.eanl     parsii  ularly     allected     the     coasts     of      Carolina. 
The  wmteii    over    which    we    nou    JO,    were    the    favorite    tields   of 
his     performance.       Harl>ored     anioni:     tho-e     i-lamN— liull  -     \>< 
wee's,     Cajx-r's.     Sullivan.    Seewee.    and     others— he     lay    in    dog 
watch     for    the    white  I!         \plored    all    tlie-e 

mil     harbor-,    and    knew  their    current-    and     IM  ariin: 
from     the    cape    of      ll.-ittera-    to    that    of      Florida     reef,        He    hail 
'•ominand    of     a    0-nipletr    sijuadron,    includinir    vessels   of 
all    -i/es.       Hi-  :  1    upon   a   forty-i:un    ship,  ti. 

of  which   •  !'   more   than   a   hundred  men.     I! 

were  Vane,  Bouiict,  inferior  to  himself  only 


450  SOUTHWARD  HO  ! 

in  hardihood  and  skill.  Somewhere  about  1713.  a  proclamation 
had  been  issued  by  the  king  in  council.  promising  a  pardon 
to  all  the  pirates  who  should  surrender  themselves  in  twelve 
months.  Blackbeard  was  one  of  those  who,  cither  through  a 
cunning  policy,  meant  to  delude  the  powers  which  he  feared  he 
should  not  so  readily  escape,  or  under  a  sudden  uneasii 
conscience,  presented  himself  before  Governor  Kden,  of  North 
Carolina,  pleaded  the  kings  pardon,  and  received  the  governor's 
certiticate.  Eden,  by  the  way.  was  one  of  those  governors  of 
whom  history  speaks,  as  having  received  the  bribes  of  the  pirates. 
and  kept  up  a  criminal  but  profitable  connection  with  Blaekbeard  in 
particular. 

"Blnckbeard,  the  better  to  prove  his  resolve  to  demean  him 
self  for  the  future  with  Christian  propriety,  married  his  Uiirtx  nth 
wife,  a  young  gill  of  Pamplico.  But  he  could  not  long  forbear 
his  riotous  habits,  or  forego  his  passion  for  adventures  upon  the 
sea.  lie  was  soon  again  on  board  a  smart  cruiser,  and  reaping 
the  fields  of  ocean  with  his  sword.  lie  sailed  upon  a  cruise, 
canning  his  new  wife  with  him,  and  shortly  returned  with  a 
valuable  pri/e.  a  French  ship  laden  with  sugar  and  cocoa,  which 
he  had  no  difficulty  in  persuading  the  court  of  admirality  he 
had  found  at  sea.  abandoned  by  her  crew.  She  was  adjudged 
as  a  lawful  pri/e  to  her  unlawful  captors.  Here  our  narrative 
begins.  Thus  far,  our  facts  are  strictly  historical  —  except,  per 
haps,  in  regard  to  the  fact  stated,  that  his  new  wife,  the  girl  of 
Pamplico,  accompanied  him  on  this  cruise.  But  the  fact,  omitted  by 
history,  is  supplied  by  tradition,  which  asserts  that  the  girl  herself 
figured  somewhat  in  the  incidents  connected  with  the  capture  of  the 
French  pri/e. 

"Blackbeard  steered  south  when  he  left  the  river  of  Cape 
Fear.  The  season  was  mild,  late  spring — the  BGtt  smooth  — the 
winds  fre-h  and  favorable.  Soon  they  espied  the  French  hrigantino 
laving  her  cour-e  due  cast  from  the  tropical  islands. 

"As  he  beheld  his  new  prey,  the  savage  chief  —  who,  in 
taking  the  oath  and  receiving  the  king's  pardon  from  the  n-yal 
governor,  had  not  denuded  himself  of  a  single  hair  of  that 
enormous  forest  of  beard  which  literally  covered  his  face,  head, 
and  breast,  and  from  which  betook  his  name — chucked  his  new 
wife  under  the  chin,  and  swore  a  lerrible  oath  thai  t he  girl  should 


THE  YOUNG    MERCHANT.  451 

see  sights,  should  drink  of  the  wine  of  the  Indies  ami  enjoy  their 
fruits,  and  be  clad  in  the  l>eautiful  silks  of  the  Frenchman. 

••  All   sail    wa>   clapped   on    for   pursuit.     The    Frenchman    knew 
•<ot   more   certainly  does   the   tlying-tish 

know   his  enemy  the  dolphin,   or  the  tunny  th<  01,  or  the 

•k,  than  the  simple  trader  the  deadly  danger  of  that 

pirate    foe,    who  combined  all   the   terrible  char  -  of   these 

:  il   marauders  of  the  sea.      Fleet  was  tin-  Frenchman  in  flight, 

but,   unhappily,    lleeter  far  was  the  outlaw  in    pursuit.     Very   pre- 

was  the  Frenchman's  cargo;  one  more  precious  still,  among 

his   passengers,  was   the   fair   Creole  wife   of  the  young  merchant, 

Louis    Chastaign.    now.    for   the    first    time,    preparing   to   visit    the 

birthplace  of   her   husband.     They,   too.  were  soon  made  aware  of 

the  danger,  and,  while  the  wife  watched,  and  prayed,  and  trembled. 

the  young  husband   got   his  cutlass   and    his  carabine   in   readiness, 

and   prepared    to   do   battle    to   the  last  in  defence  of  the   precious 

treasure  of  his  heart. 

••  Hut  hi-  resolution  was  not  to  be  indulged.     The  captain  of  the 
liantman  had  no  adequate  force  for  resistance,  and  he  prepared 
for  none       I!-    lhC   k   ;  :-  head   when   Louis  ('hastaign  spoke  of  it. 
and  appeared  on  deck  with  his  weapons. 
"  '  It  will  not  do.  Monsieur  Louis.1 

'And    shall    we    yield    tamely    to  these    wretches?      They   are 
pirates!' 

I     fail    80.      But    they    are   two    to   one.      We   have  no  arms. 
What     can    a    do/en    sword-    and     pistols    do    against    a    hundred 

die  bravely  lighting  than  basely  to  offer  our  throats  to 
the  k: 

"'Kay,  our  hope  is  that  they  will  content  themselves  with  rob 
bing  us  of  our  treasures.' 

"The  young  merchant   turned  with  a  look  of  agony  on  his  U-au- 

tiflll    Creole.       He    klle\\    u  hat    the   appetites  of    the    pir.v  ]]>• 

d    for  the   one   treasure.  <.ver  all.   and    thought   nothing  of   the 

though    the    bett.-r    portion   of   i]M.   ship's  cargo  was  his  own. 

The  rin<r   fast.     The   Frenchman  continued  to  try  his 

heels,  but   in   vain. 

••'He  gains  rapidly.  Monsieur  Louis.  put  away  your  weap 
ons,  my  friend;  the  very  show  of  them  may  provoke  him  to 

ciuell 


452  SOUTHWARD    JIO  ! 

"The  poor  young  man  was  compelled  to  submit,  yet,  in  putting 
his  weapons  out  of  sight,  he  felt  as  if  his  treasure  was  already 
gone. 

''Is  there  really  so  much  danger,  Louis?'  asked  the  trembling 
woman  of  her  husband.  He  could  only  shake  his  head  mmirnfullv 
in  reply.  Then  she  kissed  the  cross  which  she  had  in  her  hand. 
and  hid  it  away  in  her  bosom,  and  followed  her  young  lord  upon  t  he 
deck  of  the  vessel. 

"At  that  moment,  the  cannon  belched  forth  its  tires  from  the 
pursuing  pirate;  the  iron  missiles  shot  through  the  rigging  of  the 
Frenchman,  and  with  a  groan  he  ordered  sail  to  he  taken  in  ;  and 
prepared  for  submission  to  the  enemy  from  whom  there  was  no 
escape. 


n. 

'VERY  soon  the  pirate  vessel  came  alongside  of  the  peaceful 
trader.  Her  wild  and  savage  crew  were  ranged  along  the  bul 
warks,  each  armed  with  cutlass  and  half  a  score  of  pistols  con 
spicuous  in  belt  and  bosom.  Very  terrible  was  the  exhibition 
which  they  made  of  wild  beard  and  brutal  aspect.  With  a  tor 
rent  of  oaths,  Blackboard  himself  hailed  the  Frenchman,  who 
put  on  all  his  politeness  in  responding  to  the  insolent  demands 
of  his  assailant.  The  vessels  were  lashed  together  by  grapplings, 
the  pirates  streamed  on  board,  and  a  general  scare  h  was  begun. 
Meanwhile,  the  young  Creole  bride  of  Louis  Chastaign  kepi  at 
her  prayers  below.  Here  she  was  found,  and  dragged  up  to 
the  deck  at  the  command  of  the  pirate-chief.  The  passengers. 
all,  and  crew,  were  made  to  gather  on  the  deck,  under  the  pistols 
of  a  score  of  the  marauders,  while  the  rest  ransacked  the  hold 
and  cabin. 

"The  examination  lasted  not  long.  Blackboard  Boon  discov 
ered  that  the  cargo  was  one  for  which  he  should  have  to  timl  a 
market,  Its  treasures  were  not  readily  portable,  nor  easily  con 
verted  into  money.  The  gold  and  silver,  jewels,  and  precious 
stones,  found  in  the  trunks  of  the  young  French  merchant, 
though  of  considerable  value,  bore  no  proportion  to  the  value  of 
the  cargo,  the  bulk  of  which  rendered  it  necessary  that  the  ves- 


TIM:   i . !  i ;  I .   OF    PAMPLICO 

carried    into    port.     This    necessity    applied    another. 
The    crew    ami    pa>- eii-er-    miM    be    disposed    of.      A-    tin-    scheme 

!    t..    the    mind     of     Blackbeard    to    have    tin-    VI 
(••.ndfinncd  l»y  the  court    of  admirality  as  a   lawful    pri/.c,  it    needed 
that    he    should    In-    prepared    to    report    that    she   was    found    aban 
d.-ned     l.y    her     proper    owners.       This    resolve    required    that     lie 
should    stiller    no    witnesses    to    live    who    mi^ht     expOM    the    true 
nature  of   the  transaction.      He  had  no  remorseful   -cruples,  and   the 
.11    pronounced.     The   unhappy  captive-  were   doomed 
to  \\alk  the  plank. 

•'That    is    tO    -ay.  all    were    thus    doomed    who    should    refuse    to 
join    the    pirate   party.       Tin-re    was   this    terrible    alternative   to   be 
allowed    them.      Accordingly,    havinir    seen    what    were    the    treas- 
ureH    of    the    ship,    and     fully    satisfied     himself  of    what    she    con 
tained,    he    reascended    to     the     deck,    where     the    unfortunate   crew 
held    in    durance,   pair    and    trembling,  in  waiting    for    their 
I'.rief  consultation   had  been    needed  ainoni:  the  pirate  chief*. 
Blackbeard    had    irivcii   hi*  opinion,  in  which   tin-  lieutenant-  all  con 
curred:  and    ti  no  consultation    necessary    when    they    reap- 

1  on  deck. 

"The  terrible  chief,  closely  followed  by  his  new  wife,  the  girl 
of  Pamplico,  confronted  the  group  of  captives  in  all  his  terrors 
of  aspect,  costume,  and  furious  speech.  His  wife  was  scarcely 
less  a  terror  in  the  eyes  of  our  youni:  French  creole  woman. 
She  was  habited  only  in  part  like  a  woman.  She  wore  a  skirt, 
ii  i>  true,  but  the  pantaloon-  of  a  man  appeared  beneath,  and 
\viu-r  a  ><>rl  of  undros  uniform  frock-coat  covered  with 
.if  QIMBhre  -olden  buttons.  ( )n  her  shoulders  were  heavy  epau- 
lelv;  on  her  head  a  da-hini:  eap  of  fur.  with  a  feather  Her 
belt  contained  pistols,  and  a  middy's  dirk  with  ^litterin.ir  handle. 
She  laeked  imthinir  but  a  heavy  moii-tache  to  make  her  as  ter 
rible  in  the  eyes  of  the  youn.u;  French  husband  as  in  those  of  his 
wife.  To  make  the  portrait  more  revolting,  we  must  add  that 
her  face  was  reddened  and  bloated  with  free  use  of  the  wine  cup, 
and  her  eves  fiery.  \«-t  ni'»i<t.  from  the  same  unnatural  pra< 
The  n-t  of  the  p irate-  need  n..t  be  described.  It  will  suthYe  to 
that  in  their  costume  and  equipment  nothinir  had  been  omitted 
which  miLrhi  t"  'he  mind  of  the  captiv.  ::ible 

character  of  ih,-  profession  they   pur-ued. 


454  SOUTHWARD   HO  ! 

"The  pirate-chief  addressed  tin-  captain  of  the  Frenchman  with 
words  of  Mood  and  thunder.  Tin-  latter  answered  with  words  of 
weakness  and  submission.  The  former  without  scruple  declared  the 
only  alternative  to  death  which  he  allowed. 

"Are  you  prepared  to  join  us  against  the  world y     \Ve  are   I'm- 
men  of  the  seas.      We  are    of  no  nation.      We  own  no  lavs 
those  of  our  own  making.     Swear  to  obey  our  laws,  join  our  crews, 
sail  under  the  Mark   Hag  and   the  bloody  head,  ami  take  your  >hare 
with  us,  of  the  cargo  of  your  ship!' 

"  A  dead  silence  answered  him. 

"  '  Swear! '  and  the  black  flag  was  waved  before  their  I 

"'Will  my  lord  pardon  us?'   answered  the  captain  for  th- 
'Will  my  lord  take  what  we  have  and  suffer  us  to  go  in  peace?     I 
only  plead  that  our  lives  may  be  spared,' 

"  '  Your  lives  are  our  deaths,  unless  you  join  with  us.  You  have 
five  minutes  for  deliberation.  Swear,  by  the  black  tlag. —  kKs  the 
bloody  head,  and,  on  your  knees,  take  the  oath,  or  you  walk  the 
plank  every  mother's  son  of  you.' 

"A   dead  silence  again  followed.      Meanwhile,  the  Creole  wife, 
crouching   in   the   rear  of   her   husband,   who  stood    immediately 
behind  the  captain,  involuntarily  took  from  her  bosom  the  < 
black  ebony,  and.  sinking  silently  upon  her  knees,  pressed   it  to  her 
lips,  while  they  parted,  in  unuttered  prayers  to  Heaven. 

"  The    movement    did  not    escape   the  ruffian,     lie  was  now  re 
minded  of  the  woman  whom  he  had  sent  up  from  below.     In  the 
dim  light  of  the  cabin,  he  had  not  distinguished    her    featui 
glance  now  sufficed  to  show  him  their  loveliness. 

•••Jla!  he  exclaimed  —  'who  have  we  here?'  and  passing 
rapidly  through  the  group  of  captives  he  sei/.ed  her  where  she 
knelt.  With  a  shriek  she  held  up  the  crott,  He  ton-  it  from 
her  hand,  looked  at  it  but  an  instant,  then  dashed  it  to  the 
deck,  and  crushed  it  under  hi>  feet  —  accompanying  the  profane 
act  with  a  horrid  oath.  Thr  captain  of  UK-  Frenchman  groaned 
aloud.  The  pirate-chief  still  held  hi-  i:ra-p  upon  the  lady.  She 
struggled  to  free  herself  and  cried  out:  — 

"  '  Save  me,  husband! ' 

"The  appeal  was  irresistible.  Dc-peraie  as  was  the  attempt, 
the  young  French  merchant,  drawing  forth  a  pi-tol  concealed  in 
lii-  bOMm,  levelled  it  at  .the  head  of  the  pirate  and  drew  the 


TO  THE 

•      The  bullet  only  milled  tin-  nmnstmus  whNker  (,f  the  ruffian. 
Ii   h.-i'l  been   aimed  \\cll.  Imt.  in   the  moment   when  the  I 
pulled,    the  arm   of    the    yam-    merchant    lr.  :  nek   up   by 

pirates.    B 

chant  dashed  upon  Blaekbeard  with  the  fami-him:  cry  of  the  panther 

her  younir;  and   -trove,   with    in-. re  eertai:i 
mend  the  failure  of  his  first  attempt.     But  he  mj 

;ht    form   airain-t    the    bulk   of    a    mountain.       Hi- 
thrown  upward,  the  stroke   parried,  and   he  himself    sirieken 
with  a  blow  from  the  butt  of  a  carbine,  which  covered  1  : 
face  instantly  with  b. 

i!   oh!    my  husband!'    cried   the  wretched   woman, 
;;i  to  break  away  from  that   iron  irrasp  which   ti'-ver 
once  relaxed  it-  hold  upon  her.      In  vain. 

"  '  Flini:  the  carri<>n  overboard.      Shark-  are  not   made  !o  1:0  liun- 

••II'  and  partly  stunned,   but   COnacfollS, 

<  hastaiirn  wa-  lifted  in  half  a  do/en  Mai  wart  arms,  and  thrust 

Over  into  the  yftwning  86ft,    Then  the  wife  bn.k«-  away  ;—  but,  • 

readied  tin-  side  of    the   \.  ,   in   tlie  irra<p  of  the 

rutlian.     Sh>  v  her  husband  more.      His  liead  appeared  but  u 

i    upon  ti.  -  hi^   hands  were  thrown  upward,   then 

le    piercing    shriek 

when  the   FP  IK  h   captain  looked   upnn   the  M-M.  it  was  colored  with 

ild  perceive  the  white  -ides  of  tho  <:lancin<_r  -harks,  a 

••f  them,  as  they  w.  :  below  the  surface,  at   their  liv- 


Tiii  ;•;  to  delii 

;rh  batlle  ': 
tcrriltle.  thou-h  momenta!  .  of  the  \\ ; 

reliant.      In   ,-uch   CUM-- 

B    same    Q<  •  -     her 

own    i:  lure,   wh: 

and  in:  d  death,  i 

horrid  dyin-.     Pauline  (  ha^tuL  unconscious  upon 

the  d 


l."><''  SOUTHWARD    no! 

Meanwhile,  the  miserable  captives  stood  silent,  incapable,  para- 
lyy.nl  with  their  own  terrors  at  the  dreadful  tragedy  which  had  been 
so  suddenly  conceived,  and  so  rapidly  hurried  to  its  catastrophe.  The 
French  captain  shrinked  his  shoulders  and  prepared  for  his  ..\vn 
fate. 

"  'You  have  seen1'  said  Blackboard  addressing  him  and  th 
'Trample  upon  these  colors' — pointing  to  the  Hag  of  the  Lily; 
which  had  been  torn  down  and  thrown  upon  the  deck  ;  —  '  spit  upon 
that  cross  !' — that  of  poor  Pauline  Chastaign.  which  lay  half  crushed 
before  them;  —  'and  swear  on  the  bloody  head  obedience  to  the 
laws  of  the  '  Brothers  of  the  Coast  !' — such  was  the  name  which  the 
pirate  fraternity  bore  among  themselves ;—' or  you  share  the  fate 
of  that  young  fool,  and  find  the  sharks  their  supper  this  very 
ni-ht.  Speak'  You  ! '—  addressing  the  captain  of  tin-  French 
man. 

The  days  of  Rousseau,  Voltaire,  and  Robespierre,  had  not  yet 
dawned.  The  Frenchman  had  not  yet  prepared  to  spit  on  Christ,  and 
substitute  himself  for  God  !  Our  captain  knew  his  fate,  and  was 
prepared  for  it.  He  took  the  broken  cross  reverently,  and  kissed  it, 
then,  with  a  faint  smile,  he  politely  bowed  to  the  pirate  chief  —  in 
these  gestures  according  his  only  answer. 

"'To  the  plank  with  him!'  was  the  command  of  Blackbeard 
in  a  voice  of  thunder.  A  dozen  unscrupulous  ruffians  seized 
upon  the  Frenchmen  to  hurry  him  to  his  doom.  Then,  for 
the  first  time,  the  rest  of  the  crew  seemed  to  awaken  to  a  sense  of 
desperation,  as  by  common  instinct.  With  a  wild  cry  they 
rushed  upon  the  pirates,  striking  rinhl  and  left  with  muscular 
arms,  and  all  the  reckless  violence  of  despairing  nature!  Un 
happily,  the  timid  policy  of  their  captain  had  denied  them  w,  ap 
ons.  They  had  nothing  upon  which  to  rely  but  their  own 
sinews;  neverthele— ,  v(l  sudden,  so  unlooked  for  was  the  as 
sault,  that  the  pirates  bearing  the  captain.  ••rlmrnc;  he 

d  ;  and,  with  a  cheer,  they  all  together  darted  a-ain  up 
on  the  foe,  picking  up  knife  or  cutlass  where  they  might.  Alas  ' 
the  brave  effort  but  shortened  the  pang  of  dying.  A  new  flood 
of  ruffians  from  the  pirate  \e--el  poured  in  upon  them,  and  >in- 
Mu-d  the  xtrugirlr  in  a  few  moment-;  but  Hlackbcard  himself, 
meanwhile,  had  been  wounded  with  a  knife,  and  his  sinarl  ren 
dered  him  lesi  than  ever  di-p.i-.ed  to  n.  re,  Maimed,  slain,  or 


\!  \\      PB< 

•  •lily   wounded,    tin-   captive-    wen-   all    hurried    int..  the   deep;  — but 
one    male    brinir   suflVred    in   sUr\i\<  in  |M,\    \vlm,    in 

•    moment,    grappled    tin-    knee-    of    Blackbeard,    swore    allc- 

I..  hi-  authority,  and  was  admitted  t»>  im •: 


IV. 


one  (\-iptivp  remained   livinir  in  the  liands  of  tho  pi  rat  PP. 
This    was  the   youiiLT  wife  <.f  the  unhappy  merchant.   poor  Pauline 
Cha-taii:n.     She   had    been   taken    to    the    cabin    in   her   swoon,  and 
had     been    laid,    with    a    certain    decree    of    tenden  e—  .    which    had 
-hen    n<>  satisfaction    to    the   drl   of    Pamplico    upon   the   couch  of 
\'ua/itn.       It  was  with    a  curious  interest,  which  still  further 
di-plea-ed     that     person,    that     Blaekbeard     IIUIILT    over    the    uncon- 
M-J..US    woman,    ami    scanned    the    hcautie-  of   her   face    and    tiirure. 
eonil    otlicer   and    himself   conferred    upon  her   fate   together, 
in    the    hearimr  of  the    wife  of    the   latter  —  the  thirteenth   wife,  as 
you     will     remember.       The    con\er>ati..n     was    not    of    a    sort     to 
her.      She  had  n<>   >mall    portion    of    the    i:reen    infu>ion    in 
her    system    against     the     indulgence    of    which     lago    counsels 
Othello,    and    the    eairer    appeir  ::LT    in    tin-    eyes   of    Black- 

warned  her  of  her  own  danger  from  ti  Miperior  rival.     The 
lieutenant  of  the  pirate  had  his  pa-siim.s  aN«>.      He  boldly  preferred 
iim  a-  cu-todiaii  of  the  y<.unu   widow. 
Yi>u:    aii-w.  n  d   the  chief.      •  You'.'' 
'And    why    not    nie:'    wa-    the    reply    in    a    tone    approaching 

deli::' 

The    pistol    of    IJlackbeanl    wax    at    his    head   in  a  moment   and. 
\\ith  a  horrid  oath,  he  ord<  -red   the  other  on  dec  k  and  to  hi>  duties. 
The  lieutenant   >ln\\  ly.  and   willi  a   -ro\\  I.  Mibmitte.l.      When  he  had 
L'one.    the    i;irl    of    Pamplico    interpo^'d    with    the    same    q 
which   had   been   uttered   by   the  lieutenant. 

And   why  not   1,          R         -hoiild   he  not   ha\e  this  thing?' 
'BeCBOM   i!    docs   not    plca-e   me   that    he   should.    m\ 
And    u  h\    should   it    not    please 

1   prefer  that   th-  bin   for  a  while.' 

Ha'    and   what  of  n 

"'YOlll    iht       You   may  gO  to   hi-   cabin    f,,r  a    while.' 
•'  •  What  '      Y      :     Bii 


458  SOUTHWARD    HO  ! 


hire!      And  such  a»  sh<-  i<  to  pa^  between  us?      That  shall   i 
be.     Don't   think   that   I   am    a    tiling   of   milk  and   water,   without 
Qgth    or   courage.      No!   you  shall    sec-  that    I    have    Mood,  ami 
that    I    can    take    it    tool      I'm   not    afraid    of   your  Mack   1 
thundering   oaths.     No!   indeed:     You   aiv   mine;    and    while   1  am 
your-,    I    shall    see    that    no    living   w.  man    shall 
You  would  tlin:r  UK-  "il".  and  quarrel  with  your  best  this 

rair  of  a  woman,  would  you.     But  you  shall  not:' 

"  With    the   words,    quick    as    li^htnin.i:,    the   un-cxed    cr 
shot     round    the    little    table    that    stood    between    herself    and    the 
:'iiii:ly     iiiM-n.'-iMc    wife    of    the    youn«r    Frenchman,     her    dirk 
flourishing    in    her    irrasp   directly    In-fore    the    eyes    of    Blackb 

had  rounded  the  table,  and  occupied  a  place  between  him  and 

the   threatened   victim,  before   he  could   possibly   conceive  her   pur- 

and    heave   up    his  hu.ire  bulk    from   where   he    lay,     to  inter- 

for   the   prevention   of   the   mischief.     He  roared  out   a  terri 

ble     threat     and     horrid    oath,    but     the    Ama/.on    never    heeded    a 

syllable,     and     the    poor    captive    would    have    sunk    beneath    her 

,l;iMM(.r  <troke,    but     for   the    fact   that,    while    the   dispute    wa<    in 

progress    between    Blackbeard,    his    lieutenant  ,    and    the    irirl     from 

Pamplieo,  the    captive   lady   was   slowly   comini:  to   1;  and 

understood    it    all.      She   saw   the    movement    of  her   wild    assailant, 

and    darting    up    from    where    she    lay.    irave    one    piercim:    M-rcam. 

and    rushed    up    the    cabin    steps    to    the    deck,   closely    followed    by 

the    Ama/.on    and    the-    pirate.  chief.     They    reached    the    deck    only 

to    behold   the  white   Hash  of  a   .irlanrinir   form   as  it    shot    over  the 

>idc    of    the    76fl0el,   and    to    hear   a    siiiLrle   plunge    into   the    .Lrultini,r 

liillows   of   the    sea.      When   they    looked   over   the    bulwarks,   there 

nothing   1o   be    seen.     The    wife    of    the   younir   merchant    had 

1  him  in  the  deep. 

•••It    i-    iu-t    MS    well1'    Lrrowl<  -d    Blackl'eard.   tiirninir  awa\  .      'It 

'•nts    mischief'      I  la'    you    youn.ir  devil:'    he  continued,    throw- 

hi^    arm<    about    the    neck    of    the    ^he-demon    who    stood    con- 

•ini:  him.    'you  an-  a   -jirl   after  m\  •  rt  ;    hut  it 

you  rightly,   I   should    pitch  you  over  after  her.      No  more  of  this. 

Do    you  hear:      Another  -ucli   piece  of  meddling,  and  I  shall  >la<h 

:-"tty  throat   with  a  sha'-p  Do  you  hear!' 

"She    hm.irhcd    ini|)udently    and    returned    h  I,   and    the 

d«  aiil  .  ent  on  her  midniuht  c«.i. 


THE  HOARD. 


V. 

true  history  of  the  captured   Frenchman. 

our    pirated,:  vd    the    COUTI    of    admiralty    to    adjiuL 

him  -'  1   picked  up   at  -ca,   abandoned    :  -\vn- 

rd  was  SM« MI  at 

ful  in   the  results  of  his  next  crui-e:    ^athcrinir  Spanish   <j-«M.  i:i 
and  16,  the   tr  'lally  of   cast   and   v. 

P.iit  hr  carried  in  i  for  the  jurisdiction  of  tl, 

II      !iiploye<l  the  shorter  •  ..f  firinir  and  srutili!-  !,nn 

found  any  prisoners.      lie  kept  QOJ  -ekul  uj»  h' 

ist;  and  his  cruise  \\a>  a  loiiir  one-  in  i>ropoi- 

1    him    of    a  Mispici-.n<   character.      He 

mm  preparing  l«»    search    for    pirai--.      He 

•h    Carolina,  that    his   own    virtues  were    ii"1 
M.   and   that    s.,meliow,    certain     rumors  had    reached 
Virginia    alTeetini:    his    BBGUlitiei,       Ii  to    hide 

y     the     ir-  :  ready     procured,     before     uirain     ventii 

within  ii,  II     mm 

the  hi-    craft.    BO   that     she    should    1  -lure 

•lination    as    a     fair     trader,    and    secure     tli< 

|gp  of  law   and  civili/.ation. 
•ill   know   how  coninioii    was   the    practice   EU 
tahlidiini:   hoards   in   unfreijuenled    places.      All 

to  tradition,    from    the    capes    «.f     Virginia    to    that    of    Florida 

i  >ii    tliis  (  put 

B  \\hich    they    well    knew.      In 

:>  immeii:  inch 

then   uninha:  hide  tin-: 

at   niidni  asxcmMed.     Ti  'luir    in    the    eartli. 

The  pirati  -  ill    -  --und  it.       ! 

in   k 
lhc\ 

. 
"Tl.'  The     i: 


•l(i()  60UTi!\v.\i;i>    no  ! 

in.-:  t.)  which  alone,  in  the  superstitions  of  the  pirate-,  could  the 
treasure  be  securely  kept.  Meanwhile  there  ha.l  beeo  voices 
crying  to  them  from  the  woods.  The  devil  had  l.eeii  adjured 
l»y  the  terrible  chief  of  the  crew,  and  he  had  answered  with 
awful  sounds  from  a  neighboring  thicket.  They  could  im-i  ,,f 
them,  believe  in  a  devil,  and  tremble,  where  thev  tacit Iv  re 
nounced  all  faitli  in  a  God.  Of  course,  this  mummery  had  been 
1  by  the  cunning  for  the  especial  benefit  of  the  ignorant. 
They  had  imprecated  a  horrid  destiny  up<>n  their  souls,  jn  tin- 
event  of  their  fraud  or  infidelity  to  their  comrades,  and  the  audi 
ble  answers  of  the  fiend  declared  their  oaths  to  be  registered  in  hell. 
Such  was  a  part  of  the  scheme  by  which  the  pirates  bound  cadi 
other  to  forbearance,  and  for  the  common  security  of  their  hidden 
treasure-. 

"But  something  more  was  necessary  to  the  completion  of  these 
horrid  rites.  There  was  a  needed  sacrifice  which  murder  always 
found  it  necessary  to  provide  for  superstition.  Hut  this  portion 
of  the  ceremony  was  of  COUWe,  a  mystery  !«•  all  those  whom 
the  pirates  had  lately  incorporated  among  their  CTCWfl  from  among 
the  captives  they  had  taken. 

"'And  now  that  we  have  all  secure,  brothers  of  the  coa-t.  it 
still  needs  that  one  of  us  should  remain  to  watch  the  treasure 
till  our  present  cruise  is  over.  Food  he  shall  have  in  abundance, 
drink,  and  shelter.  A  boat  shall  be  left  for  him  with  which  to  tMi, 
and  weapons  with  which  to  procure  game  of  the  woods  and  wild 
fowl  along  the  shore.  It  must  be  a  willing  mind  that  must 
undertake  this  watch.  Who  volunteers?  Let  him  speak  boldly,  like 
a  man.' 

'  An  eager  voice  answered  — 

"  •  I  will  remain  and  watch  the   treasure! 

"It  was  that  of  the  poor  cabin-boy,  the  sole  survivor  of  the 
French  merchantman.  The  trembling  creature  had  shuddered 
with  daily  and  nightly  horror-  since  the  hour  of  his  captivity. 
•i-rly  sei/ed  the  present  opportunity  of  escape  from  an  as 
sociation  the  terrors  of  which  oppressed  hi-  BOul.  lilaekheard 
ooked  at  him  grimly,  and  with  a  dreadful  smile.  II 

retched  boy.  and  readily  conjectured  all  his  hopes. 
They  were  tho-e  ,,f  all  \\lio  had  ever  consented  !•>  watch  the 
treasure.  Imt  it  did  not  matter  to  11]  rketker 


TIM     HIM  LN  8A<  i:n  i<  1  .  -I'll 


||     h.Mlext      ..r     M..t.        It     \\.M-     enough     that      llC     should 

vobmi'  rding  to  their  laws  none  coald  bee  '"  take 

.tch  :  and   il  was  one  of  tli--  si-en  t  te-ts.  Hi:,t  i.f  the  volunteer. 
by  which  r  who.  of  the  cr<  ii-Ioyal.  and 

likely  t"  pro  \e  treadi- 

.ied    Hlackheanl.      •  You.  thru,  willin.irh 
r.  main  and  keep  watch  over  the  treaMir- 

do!1 
•  Then  remain,  and  MM-  that  you  watch  well  !' 

•I.   with    the    words    liftini:  the   pi-tol    which,  all  the  while, 
had     1-  fly    prepared    in    his    L'ra-p.   he    shot     the   wretched 

boy  through  the  head.  So  sudden  \va*  the  nmvcnu-ut,  that  the 
ini-i-rablr  victim  was  -carcely  conscious  of  }\\<  daiiLrer  a  sinirle 
inomuil.  bcfon-  the  bullet  was  cra^hini:  throu.irh  his  brain.  He 
fell  into  tin-  h"le  above  the  treasure,  and  the  earth  wa-  >hoveled 
in  upon  the  victim  and  the  >p..iK  he  had  probably  fane  ied  he 
Should  be  able  to  bear  away. 

"  'There    -  se.-  that  you  keep  good  watch,  irood  fellow" 
"  A  wild  howl  of  demoniac   joy  from  the  adjaeen:  .rtlcd 

the  sujM'rstitious  ,,f  Hie  crew.     Tin-   sacrifice  to  the  tiend  in  waiting 
vaciouxly  accepted;  and  a  tacit    pledge  was  thin  iriveii   by 
the  demon   that,  with   his  aid.  the  treasure  should  :ely  bv 

the  viirilant  <].eetre  of  tlie  victim. 


VI. 


•    Tin    horrid  orgiefl  which  mo  this  murder.  amoiiL'  the 

that    niirlit -— tlu-ir    dance  of   maniac    fren/y   over  the  i:ra\c 

of  their  victim,  ami  ui>on  the  q  <h  which  1    their 

buried     de;  -ibility    of     description,    as    it 

would    be    LTeatly  ..iTen-ive    \»    pn.prief-  'ibe    it. 

They   drank,   th-  mgf    they    swore,   they    howled. 

uirht;    and    it   v,  as    Ion-:    after    dawn    of    the    day    following 

they   pn.ve.l    able    to    return    to  their    ves^-l.    which    lay  at 

kge   a  ^iiMi-t    dl  in   the   i  ;.-aviu«: 

the    Maud.   the\     had    ob-cured    with    tranipliiii;.    then    with    turf 

and    leave.,   all    external    -iirn*    "f     the     burial     which     :hey    had 

The    or_  vunkeiiness    which    followed    had 

still  more  effectually  to  obliterate   from   the  memories  of  most   of 


462  SOUTHWARD   HO  ! 

them    the    impr.  thr  locality    which    they    had    gathered 

from  tin-  scene.  It  was  with  this  policy  that  their  inon-  cun 
ning  chiefs  had  encouraged  their  beMial  debauchery  and 
They,  however  (the  former),  had  taken  the  precaution  to  estab 
lish  certain  guide-marks  to  the  spot  which  nothing  could  oblit 
erate.  Tlsc  extended  braneli  of  one  tree  was  a  pointer  to  the 
place;  the  />/</:>'  of  another  was  made  to  bear  a  certain  relation 
•  the  spot,  and  so  many  paces  ea-t  from  the  one,  and  so 
many  pace*  west  from  the  other,  intersecting  with  a  third  line 
drawn  from  the  position  of  another  bough,  or  tree,  or  llu: 
the  point  of  junction  of  the  three  was  that  under  winch  the 
treasure*  lay.  We  are  not  required  here  to  be  more  precise  in  its 
delineation. 

"Their  work  done  eirectually,  as  usual,  and  our  pirates  all 
pretty  well  sobered,  they  sailed  away  upon  another  cruise,  the 
fortunes  of  which  we  need  not  recount.  Hut  this  time  they 
were  not  long  at  Bea.  After  awhile  they  returned  to  the  waters 
of  North  Carolina,  and  gave  themselves  up  to  a  week  of  riot  in 
Pamplico. 

"  Hut,  along  with  the  evil  deed  are  born  always  three  other 
-the  accuser,  the  witness,  and  the  avenger!  It  is  now 
diilicult  to  say  by  what  means  the  later  crimes  of  Ulackbcard 
became  known.  He  had  certainly  obliterated  all  his  own  tracks 
of  blood,  almost  a-  BOOH  B8  In-  bad  made  them.  Still,  these 
track*,  had  been  found  and  followed,  though  covered  up  with 
earth  and  -  the  accuser  and  the  avenger  were  endowed 

witli  a   peculiar   faculty.  Mich  as,  in  the  case  of   the  hound,  enables 
him  to  detect  the  odor  of  blood  even  through  the  mould.     Blackbeard 
with   the   instinct   of  guilt,  was   soon  aware  that  a  secret   enemy  was 
(loir-iii ii-  at  his  heels. 
9o  it  was. 

"There  had  suddenly  appeared  a  stranger  at  Pamplico.  who 
threw  himself  more  than  once  in  tin-  way  of  Ulackheard's  last 
wife,  the  Ama/.on.  He  was  a  tine-looking  young  fellow,  of 
martial  carriage,  wearing  the  loo^e  shirt  of  the  Virginian  hunter, 
carrying  a  rillc.  and  followed  by  a  dog.  He  was  tall,  erect,  and 
very  p., \\erfully  built.  There  \\a»  a  hmirhing  mischief  in  his 

lly,    Deductive    humor     upon     his    tongue,    and 
something    in    his    free,  dashing,    and    buoyant    manner,   which  is 


THi:  :ER,  463 

to    be    r:r  the 

found    favor     in    ;  of     the    irirl    of     I 

and    -lie     invited     liiiu     tt»    In  i-     . 

••  Tl,  'iviiation;  but  he 

Ii»  \i-it    the  woman    only  when    In-   knew   that    ' 
chic:  -A  hen   In 

pushed    upi  n    the   tlo,.r   of    tin-    dwell!] 

b    an  oath,    Ulacklx  ard   dcin.': 
for   what   he   came.     Ti.  had   hi-  ,d\.      lie  liad 

i  pack and     ;  !    to    barter    it    for 

ier  and  ball.      Kciranliiii;  the   pirate  only  in  ' 
i    fair    trader,     there    was    nothing    in     tin-    vi-it    to    occasion 

.•kbcard  reiranled  the  -tranu'er  uitheye-of  curious  admira 
tion.  ii«-  obaerved  with  ;--ent  proportions  of  the 
hunt 

•      V.  Q  an      bi|    fellow,1  Mid  he  —  'Mron^  as  ahorse,  no  doubt, 
and  a-  i  wild  eat.' 

A  in -iteh.'  W*t  the  reply,  '  for  any  man  of  my  inci 
"'Well    B6Q    that!'     <-\rl.-umed    tli'  -uddenly    n<\i. 

:>lini:  with    thi  in   a    frieiidl\  .-cu- 

lar    and    bulky    form-    of    the    tv.  .     to   and    fro,    biva-t     to 

1  for    a    \vhilr,    until    by    an  rti.ui    of  the 

hunter     laid    the    oinlaw    .m     hi-    bark.       The    latter    \va-    n* 

raffli 

:    'ii   don't    look   the  man   to  do   it,'  -aid    he.    'hut 
done.     ^ 
the  aeat    Th:.- 

irood    liquor.    a;;d    tine 

••  II' •:•••  the  pirate  wiob  \-  out  to  the 

;  .  rtnin    tin 

:x  I -card  b. 
of    hi-    n.  1   lie   held   out    lilM-ral  pr  '•;   to 

iiunter  —  but  \\  iihoi; 

at  sea  was  anythinir  hut    honi'-t.     In   | 
required  soiurtliiiiL' 
had  i' 


!''>!  SOUTIIWAIII)    HO  ! 

"Our  hunter  offered  only  such  objections  ;is\\, 
come;  and  tlic  result  of  the  conference  was  an  arrangement  1. 
the   parties  to   inert    tin-  next   day  mi   board   of   Blaekbeard's 
when  they   should   conic   to   a    more    definite    understanding;    our 
hunter    only    insisting    upon    seeing   the    sort    of    world    to    which 
he   was    to   lie    introduced,   and    the    accommodations   and    the    fare 
designed  for  him.     This  understood,  they  separated    for  the  night  — 
the  stranger   refusing   to  drink  or   eat  with   the   pirate,  much    to  the 
latter's  annoyance.      How    much    more   would    this  annoyance  have 
been   increased,  had   lie   known    how  tender  was  the  squee/e  of   the 
hand  which,  at   parting,   the  girl  of   Pamplico  had   bestowed   upon 
their  guc-t: 

"'With  such  a  chap  as  that  to  lead  the  boarders,  and  1  shall 
sweep  every  deck  that  ever  showed  it's  teeth.'  said  Hlaekbeard.  when 
the  stranger  had  gone. 

"  'All's  well  so  far  I*  quoth  the  latter,  as  lie  passed  from  hearing 
of  the  cabin.  "  All's  well.  To-morrow  !  to-morrow.' 

"  With  the  morrow  the  parties  again  met.  and  Blackbeard's 
welcome  was  singularly  cordial,  lie  took  the  hunter  on  board  his 
vessel,  showed  him  her  appointments,  her  strength,  and  dilated 
upon  the  prolil  of  the  trade  he  carried  on.  The  stranger  looked 
about  him,  noted  well  what  he  saw,  took  particular  heed  of  the 
pirate  guns  and  sailors.—  their  number,  their  character;  yet  pursued 
his  watch  so  casually  as  to  occasion  no  suspicion,  lie  was  pleased 
with  everything,  and  only  forebore  to  drink,  to  cat.  or  to  make  any 
positive  engagement,  as  before.  He  left  all  things  in  a  fairway  for 
arrangement;  but  it  needed  that  he  should  bring  in  his  peltry  and 
secure  his  various  hunter  effects,  in  his  distant  foreign  home. 

"  '  We  shall  meet  in  seven  da\  -  '.  ' 

"Be  sure  of  it,'  answered  the  other,  •  for  in  ten  I  must  prepare  to 
be  at  sea.  Hut.  by  the  way,  you  haven't  in  all  this  time  told  me 
your  name,  or  I've  forirot  it.' 

••  •  Well,  when  I  go  to  sea,  I  must  get  a  name.  To  confess  to  you 
a  truth,  the  one  I  have  borne,  is  rather  in  bad  reputation.' 

"'Ah!  ha!  I  see  then  why  you  are  lure.  You've  been  using 
your  rifle  on  meaner  brutes  than  buck  and  bear.  Well!  I  don't 
think  the  worse  of  you  for  that.  But  give  yourself  a  name  that  we 
may  swear  by.' 


ELD, 

' "!  take  my  name  from  the 
ship,     (all  me  Mainynrd.  f..r  lack  <>f  anythi! 
!  •  they  parted. 

!  dnyard  :     Mainyard  ! '     niutt«T«-.l     Blackbeard    to     himself. 
'W!r  I  heard    a    name    like  thai  only  a  -lay  or  It 

was  from  that  bloody  bo  man.    Th  •  the 

name  that— pshaw  I  \\i  IM.UI.I  be  anv- 

thin.  T  in  Mich  a  name.       Vet.  ther 

thin:: 

••  And  with  a  vague  memory  of — he  knew  not  what, —  running  in 
hi-  mind.  *d  felt  my-titied  and  curious  for  a  irood  hour  after 

tin-  deiuirture  of  tlit-  Hunter.      Had  he  not   been  half  drunk  and  very 
furious    when    Coleman    lir.niirht    his   >tory    to    hi-  ean,    hi-  doubts 

more  definite  form,  and  might  ha 
other  re-ult-  than  followed  hi>  oblivion. 

mwhile  the  hunter  had  di-a;  \Vhat   follows,  almost 

literally  drawn  from   hi-tory.  may  serve  to  put   int..  your  hands  the 
clue  which  was  all  tangled  iu  those-  of  the  maudlin  pirate. 


VII. 


"BLAf  Ki;r\i;i>.  a-  the  fair  trader.  Kdward   Teach,  liad 

-silky  of  the   jilanter-   in   and  about    Pamplico.     The  Bb 

hunter  had   been  amon^r  them  before  he  -oiiirht  the  pirate.      He  had 

pithered  all  their  evidenet  .   had    learned,   like  them,  to  distrust  the 

"f  the  rulin.ir  authorities  ,,f    \.>rth   Carolina  in  their  dealings 

with  the  pir;ite>.  and  had  uirht   the  succor  of 

mnit  of  Virginia.     (Jovernor  S;  ,d  UM-.!  his  intlucnce  with 

'•i-h  c.'mniMdore  «\\  the  Virginia  station  to  emplov  an  ade.mate 

force   for  the   capture   of   P,lackl>e.-ird.       F.,r    the    command    of   this 

enterpri-e  a  volunteer   ha<l    been   found,  in  the  ]n-rs«m  of  one  Robert 

Inian.  but  a  lieutenant   in  the  royal  navy.     To  catch 

l*l:i<-kh.  IS)   matter;  and   Maynard   found  it  advisable  to 

im-elf  p.  r-onally  ac^juainted  with  tin-  force  of  the  pir.r 
Of   harbora-e.   and   to   plan,    on    tie  ;f.    h,\    ,, 

operati-iiv      \\  ,     l,v..     -.    :;    •'«;,    pTOfr«BI    \\hich   he  has  made,   thus 
far.  in  the  character  "1  thfi  Virginian  hunter. 

"While    he    thus     employ,  d      hiin^-lf     tWO    sloops    WCFC     got     in 


4flO  SOUTH  \\AKD    IK)  ! 

readiness  with  equal  secrecy  and  expedition.  Blackboard,  as  we 
have  seen,  was  not  left  unapprised  of  hi>  danger.  But.  in  his 
debauch,  he  had  made  light  of  the  intelligence,  and  moreover,  it  was 
not  thought  by  those  who  bore  the  tiding  that  the  expedition  would 
have  such  early  dispatch.  In  those  days  enterprises  were  undertaken 
as  pilgrimages,  with  great  deliberation,  the  adventurer  Mopping  to 
get  himself  well  shod,  to  provide  himself  with  a  select  stall',  and, 
only  after  protracted  meditation  and  perhapo  devotions,  to  take  the 
field.  The  enterprise  of  young  Maynard  proved  an  exception  to  Un 
common  practice,  and  his  sloops  were  ready  to  go  to  sea,  while  he 
was  discussing  with  Blackboard  the  preliminaries  and  the  profit  of 
future  voyages  which  they  might  take  together. 

"Beginning  thus  vigorously,  Maynard  did  not  relax  in  his  ex 
ertions.  His  sloops  left  James  river  on  the  17th  November,  171-S. 
When  fairly  at  sea,  he  broke  the  enterprise  to  his  followers,  all  of 
whom  were  picked  men.  He  read  to  them  the  proclamation  of 
Governor  Spotswood,  offering  a  reward  of  £100  for  the  apprehension 
of  Blackboard,  £15  for  every  officer,  and  £10  for  every  common 
sailor  made  captive  with  him.  The  proclamation  was  received  with 
three  hearty  cheers,  and  all  parties  braced  themselves  up  for  the  con 
flict  which,  it  was  very  well  understood,  would  Ix-  anything  but 
child's  play.  On  the  21st  of  November.  Maynard  passed  the  bar  of 
Ocracocke,  and  rapidly  drew  near  to  the  pirate.  At  this  period,  his 
force  was  small,  consisting  of  twenty -five  men  ;  the  rest  were  at  sea, 
with  his  other  vessel,  under  the  command  of  Vaughan  and  other 
lieutenants. 

"Blackboard  was  taken  by  surprise.  He  certainly  would  never 
have  waited  at  his  anchorage  and  with  so  small  a  force,  had  he 
dreamed  of  his  enemy's  approach  so  soon.  In  truth,  he  had  been 
waiting  f»r  his  hunter,  Mainyard,—  whom  lie  looked  to  supply  tin- 
place  of  his  captain  of  marines,  one  II«.rnsby,  who  was  very  sick  on 
ihore,  and  not  expected  to  ivcover.  !!«•  did  recover.  M  we  shall  SCO 
hereafter,  but  not  in  season  to  take  part  in  the  conflict. 

"Though  thus  caught  napping,  Hlackbeard  was  a  man  of  re 
sources  and  prepared  himself  for  defence.  Maynard  -landing 
directly  for  the"  pirate,  received  his  tire  which  was  delivered  with 
terrible  effect.  rnfortunately,  his  o\\n  v— . -1  run  aground,  iu 


THK    PIU.\Ti:'s    IP  40? 

the  shallow  water  of  tin-  river,  and  this  increased  the  odds 
him.      !  ricate  himself,   In-  ha«l  loM   twenty  of  his 

men.  and  the  pirate  prepared  to  hoard  him.  Seeini:  this.  Maynard 
hurried  his  men  below,  with  order-  to  keep  ready  for  the  hand  to- 
hand  eontlict  which  \\  as  impending.  Blackbeard  bore  down  upon 
him.  threw  in  his//n//,n</,.v.  and  seeing  the  decks  ban-  of  all  Mil  the 
slain  and  wounded,  he  boarded  without  hesitation.  Then  Maynard 
rushed  up«n  deck,  followed  by  his  crew,  and  they  fell  together  ujw.n 
the  assailants.  Maynard'-  costume  on  this  occasion,  was  that  in 
which  he  had  made  the  pirate's  acquaintance.  Blackboard  knew  him 
at  a  glance. 

"•  Ha  '  traitor  !  Ha'  villain1'  lie  cried  as  ihe  young  lieutenant 
confronted  him  :  and  with  the  words  both  of  them  tired.  Then  they 
closed  with  their  dirks.  Blackbeard  was  now  reminded  of  the 
wrestle  they  had  had  together,  and  the  recollection  made  him 
desperate.  It  was  ominous  of  the  result  in  the  present  contest.  He 
was  overmatched,  and  -lashed  almost  to  pieces,  but  fighting  to  the 
la-t.  he  fell  at  the  feet  of  his  conqueror,  who  immediately  ton 
his  h,.:i(l  with  his  cutlass,  and  lifted  it.  all  reeking  and  steaming  with 
blood,  in  the  sight  of  the  remaining  pirates  AS  the  black  and 
bloody  mass,  with  its  wilderness  ,,f  beard  was  raised  on  high,  the 
horrid  eyes  glaring,  and  irla/ing  even  as  they  glared,  the  sp- 
overwhelmed  the  pirate-crew.  They  threw  down  their  weapons, 
such  as  still  survived  the  combat,  and  were  ironed  on  the  spot.  The 
capture  of  the  pirate  \e— el  followed,  but  had  nearly  proved 
conquest,  rfnce  *  desperate  MgrO  Stood  over  the  maga/.ine,  stationed 
by  Blaekbcard's  orders,  with  a  bla/.ing  match,  prepared  to 
apply  it  at  I  -ial.  It  was  only  when  the  n^ry  head  of  the 

master  was  thrust    be!  yet,   that   he  consent, -d   to  resign  his 

torch  and  lea\e  his  perilous  duty   unattended.     The  vi<  • 
nard  w:ts  complete,  and  he  sailed  up  to  the  town  of  Hath,  and  finally 
returned    to  .lames   river,    with   the  head  of  the  pirate  in 
hanging  at  the  bowsprit  of  his  vesb« 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

FROM    SHIP  TO    SHORK. 

"Tnus,"  continued  our  nn-onttnr — "thus  ended  the-  career  of 
one  of  the  most  terrible  pirate-  that  ever  infested  these  waters  He 
has  left -memorable  traces,  in  curious  and  startling  legends,  all  along 
these  shores.  There  is  a  sequel  to  this  narrative  which  I  have  re 
lated,  in  the  further  history  of  that  horde  of  treasure  of  which  we 
have  seen  the  burial." 

The  narrator  was  sharply  interrupted  with  a  cry  from  one  of  the 
party. 

"There's  the  light!" 

"The  Charleston  light !" 

And  the  group  of  listeners  were  no  longer  to  be  spelled  by  the 
raconteur.  They  broke  away  with  a  ru.-h  ;  each  eagerly  straining 
his  eyes  for  the  pale  star-like  beacon,  set  by  the  guardian  civili/a- 
tion,  on  the  edges  of  the  great  deep,  for  the  benefit  of  the 
benighted  mariner.  Meanwhile,  the  swarthy  beauty,  Night, 
enveloped  in  dark  mantle,  was  passing  with  all  her  train  of 
starry  servitors;  even  as  some  queenly  mourner,  followed  by 
legions  of  gay  and  brilliant  courtiers,  glides  slowly  and  mourn 
fully,  in  sad  state  and  solemnity,  on  a  duteous  pilgrimage  to 
some  holy  shrine.  And,  over  the  watery  waste,  that  sad, 
doubtful  light,  such  as  Spenser  describes  in  the  cathedral 
wood  :  — 

"  A  little  glooming  light  most  like  a  shade." 

showed  us  the  faint  line  of  shore  upon  our  right. 

"That  is  Long  Island  which  we  an-  -o  rapidly  passing.     There 
it    was    that    Sir    Henry    Clinton    marshalled    his   array,    grenadiers 
and     marines,     in     order    to    make     their     valiant     demonstration 
upon    the    little    army    of    rilles.    under    Thompson,    on    (In 
famous   28th   of  June,    1776,    while    Sir    IVt<  r    I'arker   was    ham- 

4Gb 


OLDCF6] 

mering    away  n'  Mivan     within    the    harbor.     Tin-    white 

mass   which  you  sec  at    the  extremity  of  I  ho  dark  line,  sho, 
what  is   called  '  the   breach,'—  win  iv   the  oe<  an  breaks  throuirh  with 
foam  and   roar,  n  :»m  Sullivan's  Hand.     'I 

this  '  breach  '  was  Clinton  -  II     \\a-sometimcs    fordablc  ; 

buton   this  occasion,  accord  in  i:  to   the  British   report,  a  inirade  took 
IB  be-half  of  the  Carolinians  not  unlike  that  which  divided    the 
sea  for  the  Israelite-,  \  it  up  immediately  after,  in  mountains 

rwhelm   the    pursiiini:    Egyptians.      Here,  the  waters  on    'the 
breach.'  r<'-e   in  the  twinkling  of   an  eye  from  two  feet    to  seven.      It 
to  In-  fordable  to  the  .irrenadie.x  who,  stran.ircly  enoii-h.  eon- 
tended    that    they  could    not    po-iblv  hope  to  do  tHitin. 
carabine,  or  charge  a  bayonet,  with    their  eyes  under  the    wa; 
that  only  half-civili/.ed  period,  the  i?i  :iadier  corps 

did  not  e\ 

"  Hut  Clinton  had  his  vessels  for  the  pa- 

"Oh!  to  be  sure!  And  lie  did  try  to  cross.     But  the  rifles  of 
Thompson  proved  an  obstacle  no  less  potent    than  the  arm  of  the 
sea.     Two    little  six-pounders,  be-ides,  planted  on  the<.; 
hills,  were  mi-ehievously   stulTed  with  irrape    and    cani-ter.      Under 
the  two  tin-.  >ir    1 1.  nry'<  rafts,  llats    and    sell'  ••  ept    of 

their  crews,  and  after    two  d.  vj,,  rate  attempts  the  assailant  di 
lenlyotT.  and    waited    the    result  of    that   more  terrific  contliet,  which 
wasgoiiii:   on.  the  while,  within  the   harbor,  and    which   continued 
throughout  the  day  till  nine  at  ni.irht." 

"  There  you  ^et  a  faint  irlimpse  of  the  sand  hills  on  Sullivan's, 
crowned  >parini:ly  with  shrub-,  amoni:  whielj  the  ritle>  \ 
Behind  th.-e  sand  hills  tin-re  N.|iiite  a  for«-t.  The  white  line  which 
you  mark,  frin.irini:  the  du-ky  plain  of  the  <ea.  i-  that  famous 
beach,  so  broad,  so  hard,  so  long,  of  which  tin-  charl«->toni:in8  boast 
as  80  beautiful  a  seaside  drive.  It  i>  M-cond  to  few  or  none  in  the 
country.  NOW  fOQIM  the  houses  dottinir  the  sandy  shores.  That 

•  iusky  building   is    the    Moultrie   IP  airy,  am; 

delic -i.nis  r,  tn  at  in  the  li,,t  s.-ason.   The  darker  compacti-r  ma^-  \\hieh 

you  not.-  we^tof  it   is  the  famous    fort,  formerly  Sullivan,  where  the 

stout   old   patriot.  M-ultrie,  pij>e  in   mouth,  at   the  head  of   hi-  little 

at,   beat  oil   the   British   tied.     From  this  jniinl  you  p. 


SOUTHWARD    ]['•  ! 

that   the  settlement  grows  denser  ;  the  white  cottages  standing  out 
distinctly,  though  rather  crowded,  in  the  pleasant  starlight," 

"  What   line  of  shore  is  this  upon  tin-  left  ?  "  asked   Duyckman  of 
Miss  Burroughs.     Our  Gothamite  never  left  that  young  lad\ 
and    preferred   evidently   to  get   his   information   from   n   feminine 
source. 

"  That  is  Morris  island,  upon  which  the  lighthouse  stands.  It  N 
also  a  pleasant  and  healthy  retreat  during  summer,  and  beyond  the 
sand-hills  there  is  a  little  hamlet. 

"  Morris  is  divided  by  a  creek  from  James  Island.  Let  your  eve 
move  alongshore  in  this  direction,  and  you  see  Fort  Sumter,  a  new 
fortress,  raised  upon  a  mole  in  the  sea.  It  confronts  Fort  Moultrie 
obliquely,  and  the  fires  of  the  two  combined  would  serve  t<>  keep  an 
approaching  fleet  in  hot  water  for  a  while.  We  are  now  pa-sing 
between  the  two,  and  have  reached  a  point  where  the  whole  harbor 
opens  upon  the  eye.  To  the  left,  you  follow  the  water-line  till  it 
brings  you  to  Ashley  river,  descending  west  of  the  city  to  the  embra 
ces  with  the  deep.  Look  across  now,  due  north,  and  yon  see  another 
long,  sandy  tract  stretching  away  till  lost  in  the  distance.  This  is 
Iladdrill's,  or  Mount  Pleasant  village  —  a  third  retreat  for  the  eiti/.eiis 
in  summer.  Just  before  you,  Castle  Pinckney  looms  up,  forming 
another  fortress  forthe  protection  of  the  harbor.  It  lies  within  half  a 
mile  of  the  city,  the  long  line  of  lights  of  which  you  see  stretching  up 
Cooper  river,  which  passes  down  from  the  north  between  Iladdrill's 
and  the  city." 

"The  harbor  is  an  ample  one,"  said  Duyckman. 

"  Few  more  so,  and'  few  in  this  country  more  beautiful.  The  ef 
fect  at  this  moment  is  very  fine.  The  seas  are  as  placid  and  sulnlued 
as  the  happy  slumber  of  childhood.  The  bree/es  swell  gently  over 
these  slight  elevations  of  land  along  the  south,  and  stoop  down  to  the 
little  waves,  creasing  them  with  rippling  beauties,  which  the  luminous 
brightness  of  the  stars  enables  us  to  follow  in  long  lines  that  are  un 
broken  till  they  subside  from  sight  in  distance." 

"I  should  like  to  explore  the-i-  Met*,  and  rivers,  and  visit  all  the 
places  you  have  named.  Can  this  be  done  safely  in  midsummer?" 

"This  season  — yes!     Charleston  is  now  very  healthy.     Were 


fflT  CUB!  111 

•i  should   not   '• 

will  tak  0  for  tlu-  rity  and   the  i-land,  bcfo: 

the  mountain  region." 

"Hem  I     Ah!     When— Mi--   P.ur:  :    think  t<-  leave 

the  city  for  v.mr  excursion  to  tin-  interior?"  queried   I>uyckman  of 
tlie  lady. 

f'.ii-  a  \\eek  <>r  two." 

1  -  'iham  noildcd  to  me  as  if  to  say — 

"That  will  ju-t  suit  u.-." 

"Hark:  tiir  LTUII  '  Captain  Ui-rry  ha-  a  private  signal  on  his 
arrival  which  he  communicate-  to  all  the  pulilic  :  Well,  my  friend-, 
our  vo\  aire  i-  •  -ver.  In  ten  minutes  u  >•  -hall  be  n-i, 

"  I  hear  tin-    rinirini:  of    hell-,"  said    Duyckman.      "A    fir> 
haps — or   pos-ihly  the    salutation  of    the    city    and    its    welcome,    in 
response   to  the  pin  of   the  captain.      V.mr  method  of   ivturninir  a 
sah  u 

"No!  it  i- our  curfew  That  hell  rinirs  f,,r  ten  o'clock.  It  i-  a 
signal  to  Sambo  and  CulTy,  the  darkies,  that  they  had  hetter  r- 

vrral  l<'di:iiiL:-  for  the  niirht  ;  and  when  it    heirin-.  at  a  quarter 
•he-trokeof  ten.  the  parties  thus  e-pecially  notiticd   I.. 
make  track.-  homeward.      It  i-  quite  an  amusing  picture  to  see  them, 
at  that  hour,  M-atfrrin.-r.  each  taking  hi-  separate  \\  •          luirries 

home.  l..-arin-   a  -irim:  oi   t.la-  klish.      He  ha-  plra-ant  anticipations 
of  a  fry  that   ni-ht.     Another  carries  a  ha-ket   tilled  with  a  variety  ; 
he  will  -ranvly  In-  \\  illinir  that  you  should  sec  what   he  can: 
third  has  a  holtle  ,,f  whisky  in  ',  and  a  pound  of  ; 

in  the  other.      And.  thu-  armed  and  charged,  they  linger  with  their 
comrade-  and  acquai:.  --f  that 

!)dl.      A  i  I  liurried  -hake  «>f  tin-  hand,  a-  th- 

and  pass,  and  they  retire  fnun  the  siurht  a-  tin-  Ix-ll  < -east's,  —  or  rather, 
when  the  tattoo  ceases,  which   always  i-  -.  hni  the  rin.irini: 

closes.      Hut    of    Charle-t.-M       in-iv    an-  D       '  nn  to   .Mi-s 

Burro:.  her  br««th.-r  wi, 

on  the  \\harf.      I  \\  i  — ." 

Our   chronicle,   f.r    tlie    pr.-^-nt.    is   comple' 

:.!.      The    cir<-!,  ag    fur 


472  SOUTHWARD   HO! 

ther  to  reveal,  of  the  secrets  of  their  prison-house,  at  tfc*j  pre» 
ent  sitting.  But,  doubtless,  we  shall  re-form  the  circle,  and 
have  new  revelations.  We  shall  seek  new  sources  of  inspira 
tion —  new  media  —  and  fresh  materials;  and  soothe,  fc*  tke 
reader  as  for  ourselves,  "  as  humor  prompts,"  the  "  idle  ?  em" 
of  both.  We.  shall  assemble,  among  our  southern  forests  and 
mountains,  a  portion  at  least,  of  our  present  company — perhaps 
add  others  to  our  circle.  But  we  shall  make  no  definite  prom 
ise ;  being  resolute  not  to  fetter  ourselves  to  hard  conditions 
We  need  say  no  more ;  and,  just  now,  our  Alabama  cynic  is  at 
our  elbow,  with  a  courtly  entreaty  that  we  shall  do  him  gracn 
era  we  part,  "  over  a  coil  of  snake  and  tiger." 


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